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X 



WEBSTER 



AND '" >*/fY 



HIS MASTEPt-PIECES. 



BY 



REV. B. F. TEFFT, D.I)., LL. D. 

AUrnOR OF "UUXGARY AND KOSSUTH." 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOLUME I. 



AUBURN AND BUFFALO: (y^) / 
MILLER, OPtTON & MULLIGAN. 
1854. 






• 1/1/ 4 I ^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-four, 

BY MILLEE, OETON & MULLIGAN. 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. 



/i-3f33S 



AUBURN : 

MILLEE, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 

6TEKE0TTPERS AND PRINTERS. 



J 






PREFACE. 



Soon after the death of Mr. Webster, the studeuts of a literary 
'astitulion, of which I then had charge, requested me to address 
tliera ill reference to the occasion; and, with a partiality natural to 
young men toward those having the oversight of their education, 
they requested a copy of the address for publication. 

Within a few weeks from the time of its publication, a proposal 
was made to me, by the most extensive inland publishers in this 
country, to write for them a life of Daniel Webster. The proposal 
was declined ; but another proposition, to write a volume on the char- 
acter of Mr. Webster, in the several departments of his intellectual 
life and labor, with specimens of his style in each department, was 
returned. These overtures led to quite a correspondence, and fi- 
nally to the composition of the present work, which, the reader will 
perceive, is an enlargement of both jwopositions blended. 

It would have been possible, perhaps, in the composition of the 
first volume, which narrates the life of the great statesman, to fol- 
low his career more minutely, step by step, and year by year, if not 
day by day, at least from the time when his career became con- 
nected with the history of his country ; but this sort of biography, 
so common when books were scarce, and when amusement rather 
tliau instruction was the object sought after by the reader, meets 
not the temper of an age, which, active and busy to excess, has no 
time to waste on needless particulars, but hastens over tiresome de- 
tails to seize upon the great facts involving and demonstrating 
character. 

It is the character of Mr. Webster, rather than the trivialities of Iiia 
experience, that now constitutes, and will ever constitute, the charm 
which attaches to his name ; and for the proi>er illustration of that 
character, it is not necessary to set down everything that he has 



Vi . PREFACE. 

ever said or done, nor everything that has happened to him, out 
only enough to exhibit clearly each trait as it rises successively to 
view. Indeed, a life at all approaching the nature of a diary could 
have been -written by no one but himself, or by some individual, 
■who, like another Boswell, should have been constantly about him ; 
and such a production, had it been written, would have been a work 
by itself, but in no sense supplying the want of a biography. A 
food biography, in fact, instead of being made up of such particu- 
lars as fall under the daily notice of a valet, or body servant, or very 
familiar friend, should, by the laws of taste, exclude such trivial 
circumstances ; and, just so far as a person banishes all com- 
ruon-plavie incidents from his mind, and rises to the level of those 
greater and more public acts, which are open to the view of all, 
docs he qualify himself to write such a work as the Roman has left 
us of Agricola. 

These two writers, in fact, Boswell and Tacitus, if names so un- 
like will admit of a temporary association, mark the two extremes 
"in biographical composition. Boswell, a vain person, and anxious 
to get himself into his work as frequently as possible, relates every 
good-for-nothing event in the history of his hero, as if it were of 
any consequence to the world when the great man went to bed on 
any given night, and what he said before leaving the company of 
his friends, and Avhat he saw after he had reached his apartment, 
and what clothes he took off in his retirement, and how he looked 
in his night-dress, and liow he appeared on rising the next morning, 
and what was the color of the horse he rode tlie next day on his 
going to a place of no importance, and with people of no conse- 
quence, and all the nameless little particulars, which might have 
happened to ten thousand other persons, and persons of no special 
value, as well as to Dr. Johnson. Tacitus, on the other hand, though 
intimately acquainted with Agricola, and a member of his family, 
relates no familiar incidents, tells no anecdotes, reports no private 
conversations, exposes no personal secrets, and yet, in spite of this 
want of details, makes a biography, and a biography which is likely 
to hold its place in the admiration of the world, as long as there is 
a scholar capable of reading and interpreting his language. 

Between these two extremes, there is a style of biographical com- 
position, which, while it makes as much use of particular incidents 
as are essential to a true exposition of general character, is inclined 
to feel, in the life of a man long and intimately known, the excess 



PREFACE. Vii 

of this class of materials, rather than the want of them. To be able 
to compose this higher species of biographj', it has been thought 
that the writer should by no means have been an intimate friend, 
or companion, or even cotemporary of the subject of it; as it has 
been supposed, that such intimacy fastens the little facts of a life 
in the writer's memory, to the exclusion or prejudice of those greater 
ones, which are alone of consequence to the more distant public, and 
to coming ages. 

A cotemporary, or familiar friend, is exposed to other evils equally 
deleterious to a correct and just biograph}-. The friend writes with 
the partiality of a friend ; he sees, in the composition of every line, 
how it is likely to affect the family and associates of his subject ; 
he sees and feels how each line and word is to affect himself in their 
good opinion ; and he writes accordingly, evincing a restraint of 
censure, or an excess of eulogy. He has his and liis subject's neigh- 
borhood, also, their particular latitude or longitude, to satisfy ; and 
he is almost certain to be carried forward, or held back, by these 
delicate considerations. The cotemporary, though not a daily 
friend, is supposed to live under the same temporary and hence 
partial influences, to have his hopes or his fears in some way con- 
nected with the events he narrates, and thus to write under im- 
proper impulses. So fundamental, indeed, are these considerations, 
and so universal is their application, that the memoir of Agricola 
itself tlie great classic model of one species of biographical history, 
while it is a piece of splendid composition, is undoubtedly a very 
flattering account of the Roman general's actual life ; and were it 
now of more consequence to have a true narrative of that life, than 
to possess one of the finest extant specimens of Roman literature, 
and of Roman art, the world would demand anotlier work. 

With the full admission of tlie truth of all these acknowledged 
principles, and of their just application, it is possible, nevertheless, 
for a cotemporary to write at least an impartial biography. The 
writer may never have been a companion, or a friend, or in any way 
a part of his subject's social circle. He maj'not have been a citizen 
of his locality. In both these respects, he may have been as distant, 
as separate, as distinct from his subject, as if he had been born in 
another hemisphere, or had lived in another century. It is possi- 
ble, too, that he may have been so distinct from all the associations, 
political or ecclesiastical, in wliich that subject moved and acted, as 



Vm PREFACE. 

to be capable of looking upon them with as much disinterestness as 
will be felt by a writer of a coming generation. 

Nor would this position of the author, if admitted in its full force, 
Becessarily exclude him from those sources of information, in rela- 
tion to his subject, which are essential to his undertaking. He has 
all the sources, and more than all, that will be open to that future 
biographer, who, according to the standard canons just stated, will 
alone be capable of writing a reliable biography. It is possible, in- 
deed, perhaps probable, that more personal incidents, more of mi- 
nute details, more epistles, more table-talk, more particiilars of 
every sort, may be imparted to the public before the appearance 
of that coming biographer ; but it is also possible, and in fact quite 
true, as any one making an attempt to write the life of such a man 
as "Webster would quickly find, that there is likely to be already 
siich an amount of personal details as to embarrass rather than fa- 
cilitate a writer's hand. It cannot be improbable, indeed, that Mr. 
Webster may have left many unpublished letters, and similar docu- 
ments connected with his career ; but, should these documents be 
60 ample as to fill many volumes, as it is supposable they may, they 
cannot be regarded as at all essential to the exposition of a life so 
thorouglily open to investigation, and so accurately prefigured, in 
his works. 

The published writings of Mr. Webster, indeed, constitute, as they 
will ever constitute, the main reliance of all who shall undertake 
to write the narrative of his life. Xext to these, the history of his 
countrj^ during the period when he lived, will be the second most 
complete and authentic resource ; for such was his position, such 
the magnitude of his individual acts, that there is scarcely an event 
in his historj', after he became a iiublic man, and scarcely a speech 
in the entire collection of his speeches, which is not directly con- 
nected with some important event, and generally some epoch, in 
the history of the nation of which he formed a part. The third and 
last source of information is found in what his friends and his ene- 
mies have written in relation to him; and, though the lowest testi- 
mony respecting him, it is so abundant, that, were it sufficiently re- 
liable, his life might be written, from beginning to end, without go- 
ing beyond it. When it is considered, indeed, that his published 
works, wherein his whole career lies embodied, nearly fill six heavy 
octavo volumes ; that the history of his time is spread out in a 
thousand different forms; that everything he ever did, or ever 



PREFACE. iX 

said, possessed of any consequence, has been successively presented, 
recalled, repeated, discussed, by every grade of intellect, in every 
possible shape, and witli every conceivable kind and degree of cen- 
sure and of praise, in books, in periodicals, and in newspapers ; that 
his name and character have been through life constantly before 
the world, daily and hourly, from one end of our country to the 
other, and in other countries, as subjects of investigation ; that, for 
forty years, there was not a day when that name, and something 
in relation to that character, were not to be found in any political 
or secular sheet, which any man might happen to take up at home 
or abroad, in any city of the Union, in any town or village or 
hamlet of the country, it may well be doubted whether anything 
that Mr. Webster may have left not now publi-shed, or anything 
he could have written, would add anything now or hereafter to 
the wonderfully and almost oppressively ample stock of informa- 
tion which the world has long since had respecting him. All that 
a biographer can now do, in fact, in tracing out the actual history 
of his life, is to select from this abundant store as much as is posi- 
tively essential to his purpose, and the best material for that pur- 
pose, making no farther use of the remainder than, by reading and 
appreciating it, to prepare himself to understand and properly em- 
ploy what is to enter more directly into his composition. 

In regard to the second volume of this work, it is, perhaps, suf- 
ficient to say, that it has been my intention to give only the ac- 
knowledged master-piece of Mr. Webster in each of the several 
fields occupied or entered by his almost universal genius. As the 
age is too much employed to dwell upon every minor incident in 
even a great man's life, so it is too busy to admit of paying equal 
attention to everything he has produced. Tlie world is now so full 
of reading, and the topics of investigation are so greatly multiplied, 
that the best nile a man can now laj^ down for the government of his 
studies is, not to read wliatever comes to hand, nor all that even great 
men have written, which would be impossible, but chiefly the master 
efforts of the master minds of the most enlightened and illustrious 
countries and ages of the world. In this way, whatever be tlie as- 
sociations he is compelled to hold in his daily life, which, in gen- 
eral, have to be rather common-place at best, he may maintain a 
very close conversation, not only with the first spirits of every pe- 
riod and of all places, but with these in their happiest moments and 
in the highest inspiration and soaring of tlieir minds. This is the 



X PREFACE. 

TiBe that the rising generation, and all future generations, will 
wish to make of Webster. One after another, his secondary 
efforts will be dropped from the general regard, and consigned to 
those few, lawyers and civilians, who will study his productions 
with their professional ends in view, while his most able and bril- 
liant performances, which, like the books of the Sybil, will main- 
tain the undiminished value of his works, thoiigh their number may 
be less, are to endure the wreck of ages and the touch of time. 

Clifton Springs, August, 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS, 

CHAPTER 11. 

TUE WEBSTER FAMILY. 

First settlement of the "Webster •Family in New Hampshire, 
Their Peculiarities, ..... 

Kevolutionary Services of Ehenezer Webster, 
The Birth-jilace of Daniel, .... 

CharacterofEbenezer Webster, drawn by his Son, . . 

Ezckiel Webster, ...... 

CHAPTER HI. 

THE YOUTH OF -WEBSTER. 
His Feeble Health in Infancy and Boyhood, 
The Pocket-liandkerehicf— his first reading of the Constitution, 
Story of the Cnck-flght, . . . . . . 

His first Instructors, .... 

Letter to Master Tappan, .... 

Maternal Instruction, .... 

Employed in Mr. Tliompson's Office— Strange Choice of BoolvS, 

Is sent to Pliillips' Academy, 

His Introduction to the Principal, 

Kapid Progress in his Studies, 

Cannot Declaim, . . ' . . 

Influence of Dr. Abbott, .... 

Becomes a Pupil of Dr. Wood, 

It is decided to send him to College, 

CHAPTER IV. 

WEBSTER IN COLLEGE. 

His First Appearance at Dartmouth College, 

General Demeanor as a fitudeut, .... 

His Choice of Studies, ...... 

His Description of True Eloquence, 

Quickness at Repartee, ..... 

Amusing Anecdote, ..... 

Determines that his Brotlier shall go to College, 

Has no equal among the Students in Philosophy and Rhetoric, 



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Xll 



CONTENTS. 



His first Public Oration, 

Studies during his last year in College, 

His Classmates in the Graduating Class, 

Commencement Orations, 

Eeceives his Degree, . 

Destroys his Diploma, 



CHAPTER y. 



WEBSTER TUE LA'WTER. 



Returns Home and enters the Otiice of Mr. Thompson, 

Takes charge of the Academy at Fryeburg, 

Acts aG Assistant Registrar of Deeds out of School-hours, 

Travels through Maine witli his Brother, 

Affectionate Remembrance of the People of Fryeburg, 

Re-enters the Office of Mr. Thompson, 

A Hard and Judicious Student, 

Completes his Law Studies with Governor Gore, at Boston, 

Thrown into the Society of Distinguished Men there. 

Severe Study impairs his Health, .... 

Visits Albany — -Attentions shown hira there, 

Appointed Clerk of his Father's Court, 

Visits Home, and declines the Overture, 

Is confirmed in this Resolution by Governor Gore, 

Admitted to the Bar — Governor Gore's Eulogy, 

Flattering Offers to remain in Boston, 

Returns Home and opens an Office tliere, 

First Cause in Courts 

Is at once Successful, . 

Still a Hard Student— Love of Poetry, 

"Writes for the Press, . 

Anniversary Oration at Concord, 

Removes to Portsmouth, 

Marries Miss Grace Fletcher, . » , 

Joyof his Domestic Life, 

Amusing Professional Anecdote, . 

Increasing Popularity as a Lawyer, . 

Rule of his Professional Life, 



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CHAPTER VI. 

REPRESENTATIVE TO CONGRESS. 

Is drawn into Politics, ...... 

Events preceding the War with England, . ... 

European Politics, ....... 

State of Affairs at the Commencement of Madison's Administration, 
War declared, ....... 

Webster opposed to the Policy of the Administration, 

His first Political Speech, ...... 

Elected to Congres.s, ...... 



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182 



CONTENTS. 

An Extra Session— Journey to Washington, . 

Takes his seat in Congress, 

Appointed on the Committee of Foreign Relations, 

His Action in the Committee, 

Offers Resolutions of Inquiry, 

His first Speech in Congress, 

His Fellow-members surprised at his Eloquence, 

Opinion of Chief Justice Marshall, 

Speaks only on the most Important Questions, 

His Opinion of the War, .... 

Advocates an Increase of the Navy, . 

Is Re-elected to Congress, 

The United States Bank, 

Webster opposes the Administration Plan of a Bank 

His Objections to it, . 

His Library destro3-ed by Fire, 

Increased Preparation for his Official Duties, 

Opposes a High Protective Taritf, 

Reasons for that Opposition, . 

Again Opposes a United States Bank, 

His Resolutions on the Collection of the Public Revenues, 

CHAPTER VII. 

A LAWYER IN MASSACnUSETTS. 

Resumes the Practice of his Profession, . 

Removes to Boston, ...... 

Takes the Highest Position as a Counselor and Advocate there, 
Case of the Kennistons, ..... 

Mr. Webster successfully defends them, . 

The Dartmouth College Case, 

Mr. Webster's Great Speech thereon, 

Professor Goodrich's Account of it, . 

Conclusion of the Speech, 

Its Effect on the Court, .... 

Elected a Member of the Massachusetts Convention, 

Speech on the Property Qualification, 

His Oration at Plymouth, .... 

Defense of Judge Prescott, . . . , 

Murder of Joseph White, .... 

Arrest of the Brothers Kuapp, ... 

Trial of John Francis Knapp, 

Mr. Webster's Great Argument for the Prosecution, 

Mr. Choato's Account of it. 

Fame as a Lawyer — Judgment of his Cotemporarlcs, 

CHAPTER VIII. 

REPRESENTATIVE AND SENATOR FROM MASSACnUSETTS, 

Re-enters Congress, .... 

Speech en the Greek Revolution, 



xm 

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XIV 



COKTENTS. 



His Estimate of the Power of Public Opinion, 
Clay ami Webster, .... 

Sijcech on the Tariff, .... 
Case of Gibbons and Ogden, 
Mr. Webster's Great Constitutional Argument, 
Judge Wayne's Opinion of it, . 
Almost unanimously re-elected to the Lower House, 
First Bunker Hill Oration, 
Election of J. Q. Adams, 
Charge against Clay and Adams, . 
Mr. Webster's Courtesy as a Debater, 
Bill to remodel the Judiciary, 
Speech on the Panama Mission, 
Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, . 
Transferred to the Senate, 
First Speech in the Senate, 
Election of General Jackson, 
The Tariff and New England, 
Speech on the Tariff of is28, . 
Opposition of South Carolina, 
Foot's Eesolution on the Public Lands, 
The " Great Debate,'' 
Mr. Hayiie, as an Orator, 
Mr. Hayne's first speech on Foot's Eesolution, 
Mr. Webster's Eeply, . 
Mr. Hayne's second Speech, 
Mr. Webster's Great Eeply, . 
Judge Sprague's Opinion, . 
Mr. March's description of the Debate, 
' The Exordium, .... 
Wonderful effect of the Speech, 
Its popularity, .... 
Nullification — General Jackson's Proclamation, 
Mr. Webster's Speech on the Force Bill, . 

CHAPTER IX. 

SECOND TERM AS SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS. 

Mr. Webster's private Life, . . . 

Death of his Wife, 

Marries Miss Caroline LeEoy, 

Kcjcction of Mi-. Van Buren, as Minister to England, 

Speech on the United States Bank, 

Is courted by General Jackson, . 

Visit to the West, 

Speech at Pittsburgh, . , . 

Not a Consolidationist, . , 

Mr. Clay's Compromise Act, . . 

General Jackson's tour to the East, . 

Eemoval of the Deposits, 



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CONTENTS. 



XV 



Debates on the subject, 

Speech in reply to the President's Protest, 

Mr. "Webster the leader of the Opposition in the Senate, 

Opening of Van Buren"s Administration, 

The Extra Session, 

The Sub-Treasury Scheme, 

Mr. "Webster's Speech thereon. 

The Domestic Slave-Trade, 

Second Speech on the Sub-Treasaiy, . 

Debate •srith Calhoun, 

Personal Relations with Calhoun, 

Visits England. 

CHAPTER X. 

FIRST TERM AS SECRETARY OF STATE. 

Election of General Harrison, 

Difficulties with England, . . 

Commencement of Negotiations — Case of McLeod, . 

The North-Ea-stern Boundary, . ... 

Pormer Negotiations, ....■• 

Settlement of the Boundary, .... 

The African Slave-trade, and the Plight of Search, . 

Treaty between France and England, 

The Quintuple Treaty, .... 

Settlement of the Question by the Treaty of Washington, 

Extradition of Fugitives, .... 

Burning of the Caroline, . 

The Doctrine of Impressment, 

Claim set up by England, . 

Eatification of the Treaty, 

Difficulties of the Secretaryship, 

Attacks upon Mr. "V^'ebste^, 

Ecply to those Attacks, 

Attacks upon the Treaty, 

Mr. "Webster's Defense, 

CHAPTER XI. 

AGAIN SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS, 
Tv.-o years in Private Life, ... 
His Pursuits and Eecrcations, 
"Warns the People against the Annexation of Texas, 
Election of Mr. Polk, .... 
Speech on Annexation, . 

"War with Mexico, ..... 
The Oregon Boundary Question, 
Services of Mr. "Webster, . • . . ' . 

The Tariff of 1842 

Revival of the Sub-Treasury, 



PACK. 

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870 



874 
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386 
887 



XVI 



CONTENTS. 



Visit to the Southern States, . 

Speeches on tlic War with Moxieo, 

The Treaty of Peace with Mexico, . 

Mr. Webster's Ojiposition to its Provisions, 

Revival of the Slavery Question, 

Mr. Webster's Position, 

Tlie Wilmot Proviso, .... 

Nomination of General Taylor, . 

Mr. Webster's opposition to Military Presidents, 

The Admission of California, 

The Union threatened, 

The Compromise Measures, 

Mr. Webster's views of the Basis of the Union, 

Speech of the 7th of March, 

It is not well received at the North, . 

Is accused of yielding too much to Slavery, 

His other Speeches overlooked, 

CHAPTER XII. 

CLOSING PEKIOD OF HIS LIFE. 

Death of John 0. Calhoun, .... 

Death of General Taylor, ..... 

Mr. Webster's Eulofcy, ..... 

Last Speech in the Senate, ..... 

Appointed Secretary of State by President Fillmore, 
Boundaries of Texas, ...... 

Eeply to Hulscmann, ..... 

Address on laying the Corner Stone of the Capitol Extension, 
The Lopez Expedition, ..... 

Successful Exertions of Mr. Webster in behalf of the Prisoners, 
Case of Mr. Thrasher, . . . • . 

Sudden Announcement of Mr. Webster's last Illness, 
His previous Attacks, .... 

Visits Dr. .JeflTrles — Description of his appearance. 

Is directed to abstain from all Mental Labor, 

His Views of Life and Death, 

Ilemarks of Mr. Hillard, . . . 

General Concern of the Nation, 

Inscription for his Monument, written by himself. 

Increasing Debility — Dictates his Will, 

Alarming Symptoms — Executes his Will, 

Concluding Scenes, .... 

Wishes to Comprehend Death, 

His last Words—" I still Live ! "— and Death, 

Keview of his Life, .... 



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AVEBSTER AND HIS MASTEIl-PIECES. 



CHAPTER I. 

i:XTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

When, after the 24th day of October, 1852, it was an- 
nounced fi'om Marshfield, that Daniel Webster was no more, 
as soon as' men had time to begui to realize the nation's loss, 
his own words, which he had used in reference to the deaths of 
Adams and of Jefferson, seemed to spring spontaneously to the 
lips of every individual, who had made himself familiar with 
his works : " A superior and commanding human uitellect, a 
truly great man, when heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, is not 
a temporary flame, burnmg brightly for a wliile, and then giv- 
uig place to returning darloiess. It is rather a spark 'of fervent 
heat, as well as radiant light, with power to enkindle the com- 
mon mass of human mind ; so that when it glimmers in its 
own decay, and finally goes out in death, no night follows, but 
it leaves the world all light, all on fire, from the potent contact 
of its own spirit." 

This language was immediately applied to the man who had 
first uttered it. It was extensively copied mto the public prints. 
Every American felt, that nothmg short of the strongest ex- 
pressions could do justice to the universal sentiment. That 
sentiment was higher than it has ever been, in this countrv, 
since the death of Washington. It was as high, probably much 
nigher, than it was in England on the decease of Wellington. 



18 Webster and his master-pieces. 

Napoleon, when he died, was not more mourned by his friends 
in France, than was Webster in America. Napoleon was 
mourned by one party, the strongest, it is true, but blamed, 
hated, though too great to be despsed, by every other. Web- 
ster was so universally mourned, by the whole American peo- 
ple, that the very few citizens, who had the folly to become 
exceptions, could scarcely be regarded as constituting an excep- 
tion. They were lost, and buried, and overwhelmed amidst 
the general burst of feeling, which the whole nation poured out 
over the grave of its fallen statesman. 

There have been but few men, since the beginning of history, 
whose characteristics were so prominent, whose greatness was 
so emphatic, that they left but one opinion of their merits. 
Aristides was starved to death by his own countrymen. An- 
axagoras was driven from the land of his birth by those who 
had listened to his lofty teachings. Themistocles was banished 
after he had saved the liberties of his native country. Milti- 
ades was forced into exile after he had covered his country with 
the brightest rays of its military glory. Phocion and Socra- 
tes, the mcorruptible politician and the almost inspired philoso- 
pher, were compelled to drink the fatal hemlock, after they had 
furnished their fellow citizens with the brightest examples of 
patriotism and of purity of character ever witnessed by them. 
None of these men, great as they certainly were, were great 
enough, it would seem — not to escape slander ; for this is com- 
mon to all mortals — but to rise above it, to beat it down, to 
conquer it, and to impress upon the world, a true, single, immis- 
takable image of their characters. 

Such was not the fate of Daniel Webster. When he de- 
parted, not only his own nation, but all the civilized nations 
surrounding it, on both sides of the Atlantic, as well as more 
distant countries, and the islands of the seas, uttered substan- 
tially one voice, gave vent to one emotion, luiited in one opin- 
ion. That voice, that emotion, that opinion was, that the great- 



THE nation's loss. 19 

ness of Webster had left nothing equal to it among the living, 
and could not be expected to be followed by any greatness su- 
perior to it in many a generation. 

What a spectacle, indeed, this vast country presented to the 
world immediately upon, and for weeks and months after, the 
lamented 24th of October ! A statesman had died ; and all the - 
statesmen of the lepublic, including its chief magistrate, and 
the heads of departments, and both houses of congress, and 
all the state legislatures, as soon as they assembled, and the 
most distinguished of our retired patriots, hastened to pay their 
profoundest respects to the illustrious dead, and freely acknow- 
ledge him to have been superior to any of their number. An 
American lawyer had died ; and, with the same consent, all the 
courts in the country, then in session, or immediately upon their 
being opened, passed resolutions of honor to his memory ; and 
the first jurists of the nation, with the most able and noted ad- 
vocates, as well as every class and individual connected with 
our tribunals, seemed to be in haste to free their breasts and 
tell the world, that they had lost a inan whose equal had not 
been known among them. An orator and writer had gone ; 
and all the orators of the land, and the writers of greatest tal- 
ent, and highest genius, and proudest reputation, appeared to 
have a burden upon their hearts, till they had proclaimed him, 
from !Maine to California, the sublimest speaker and the ablest 
writer of his country. A patriot had departed, whose birth had 
occurred amidst the scenes of the American Revolution, whose 
ancestors had fought in the battles of that mighty period, whose 
political career had covered nearly two-thirds of the history of the 
government, and whose personal services had been all devoted 
to the establishment of the constitution and the perpetuation of 
our liberties ; and, upon the first announcement of the nation's 
loss, the most patriotic of our citizens, in every state and terri- 
tory, from ocean to ocean, hastened together in solemn assem- 
blies to declare to each other, and to all countries, that they 
VOL. I. 2 



20 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

mourned the departure of their most fearless, unselfish, and 
useful fellow citizen. That citizen had been, through life, so 
much from his family abode, and so constantly employed in 
public business, as to have left doubtful his relations to the 
christian church, though his views of Christianity itself had been 
frequently expressed ; but, on his burial day, when his family 
and friends, when his immediate neighbors who knew him best, 
with the devout pastor of the parish at their head, while shed- 
ding their tears upon his grave, told how he had loved and read 
the bible, how he had reverenced the character of God, how he 
had led for years the devotions of the domestic circle, with 
what patience and submission he had borne the distresses of the 
sick bed, with what emphatic terms he had given his last testi- 
mony to the truth of the christian religion, and with what fervor 
and earnestness he had committed his spirit, in the closing hour, 
to the care and protection of his Maker and Redeemer, a new 
phase of the great man's character came to light, a new cliord 
was touched in the general heart. The pulpits of more than 
fifty denominations, of every christian body with scarcely an 
exception, united with the acclamations of a whole people, in 
pronouncing the national eulogy upon liim, who, for nearly half 
a century, had been acknowledged as the first and foremost of 
the nation. 

Such a vast, amount of panegyric, so general and universal 
an expression of respect, of movn-ning, and of eulogy, would 
be more than enough to establish the immortality of any indi- 
vidual. There is now no other American, there is now no En- 
glishman, there is no European, who could not afford to ex- 
change all he hopes, and all he is likely to obtam, of posthu- 
mous fame, for what has been said, and written, and published 
of the fallen statesman, since the day of his decease. Could 
all the well-earned praise that has been heaped upon him, for 
almost half a century, be blotted out and forgotten, -what has 
Deen said within a few months would be an equivalent for all 



SCIENCE OF A GREAT LIFE. 21 

the praise ever bestowed upon any two of our presidents, ex- 
cepting Washington, or upon any five of the most distinguished 
of those of his American cotemporaries that survive him ; and 
yet, it is certainly to be doubted whether all that has been ut- 
tered, privately and publicly, in congress, in the courts, from the 
pulpits, and among the people, has added anything to the stock 
of his reputation. 

Under such circumstances, it is idle any longer to pronounce 
eulogiums upon Daniel Webster. The time for them has 
passed. Something more to the purpose, iriore valuable, more 
lastingly useful, must now take their place. When it is con- 
sidered, that the man, who rose to all tliis importance, to all 
this fame, to this woiid-wide influence, sprang from a humble 
origin, and grew up to what he was without the aid of extraor- 
dinary advantages, with scarcely one advantage which he did 
not make for himself, his life and character become at once a 
most interesting and instructive study. To know such a man 
thoroughly is like knowing a great science. His career, in fact, 
taken in all its bearings and relations, in its beginning, its grad- 
ual development, its proud triumphs, its glorious termination, 
is a science. It is the chief of all the sciences. It is the sci- 
ence of human life. It is the science of life as exhibited on a 
large scale, in a most interesting period of history, on a new 
theater of action, influenced by a new order of civilization, by 
new laws, new associations, and novel circumstances. To un- 
derstand this science well, as set forth in the great example 
now before us, is to understand the history and present condi- 
tion of our country, to understand the important questions now 
involved in every consideration of its future, to understand the 
relations existing between this country and other countries, and 
to comprehend the age in which the great man lived, as in his 
life the age was itself comprehended. 



CHAPTER n. 

THE WEBSTER FAMILY. 

Daniel Webster, the youngest son of Ebenezer and Abi- 
gail "Webster, was born at Salisbury, New Hampshire, on the 
18th of January, 1782, the last year of the Revolutionary 
War. He died at Marshfield, in the state of Massachusetts, 
on the 24th of October, 1852, at the advanced age of more 
than seventy years. To speak exactly, he was seventy years, 
nine months, and six days old, the day he died. He was born 
in obscurity, on the north-eastern frontier of the United States, 
on the verge of civilization in that direction, his father living in 
the last occupied house next to the Canadian line. He died as 
Secretary of State of the United States, the most known, the 
most celebrated, the most powerful and mfluential citizen of 
his country. 

The family of the Websters, which had settled in Kingston, 
Rockingham county. New Hampshire, at the beginning of the 
eighteenth century, seems to have been highly respectable. 
Strength of mind, and decision of character, appear to have 
been the most notable of its characteristic traits. Another 
feature was its desire to establish and perpetuate itself. With- 
out any of the aristocracy of family, as exhibited in monarchical 
countries, it looked well to its own existence, and wished to 
hand do\vn, from one generation to another, a reputation that 
should honor the past and give promise of the future. As a 
specimen of this feeling, it is a curious fact, that the eldest 
brother of Daniel, his father, grandfather and great-grand- 



FAMILY TRAITS. 23 

father, who were all eldest sons, were named Ebenezer. Not 
only this cherished name, but the liistory of the whole family, 
in all its branches, evinces, also, its third strongest peculiarity, 
a decided mclination to religion. Perhaps no family in the 
country, not excepting any of New England, can show in its 
records a larger list of names, in proportion to the whole num- 
ber, taken from the Scriptures. 

Another marlced peculiarity of the Webster family was its 
love of knowledge. They were strikingly intellectual. It is 
related of Daniel Webster's father, who was apprenticed to a 
trade at an early age, that, though he never went to school a 
day in his life, he made himself a good reader while quite a 
youth, and afterwards became a man noted for the extent, depth 
and accuracy of his information. While a boy, he studied late 
of nights, by the blaze of pitch-pine knots, when his master and 
the family were asleep. Those who remember him in mature 
age say, that he was then the best reader, the best elocutionist, 
and the most thoroughly informed man, of the place where he 
lived. The books he read most, and which he most admired, 
were the plays of Shakspeare and the bible ; and his tiiste, in 
this respect, seems to have followed him to the most distin- 
guished of his children. 

Patriotism was another mark of the Webster family. All 
through the earliest periods of the history of New England, it 
furnished soldiers, but more commonly officers, to the compa- 
nies raised for the defence of the inhabitants, hi 1757, the 
French and Indian war was raging with uncommon violence. 
The enemy seemed to be advancing regularly and successfully 
with the plan of destroying the American colonies. An emer- 
gency at length arose. A new enlistment was ordered for the 
protection of the north-eastern frontier against the savages. It 
was at this time, and for this purpose, that that celebrated corps, 
known in history as Roger's Rangers, was commissioned. 
All its members were to be picked men, selected from the lead- 



24 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ing families, and known to be hardy, able-bodied, and courage- 
ous. By the side of Stark, and Putnam, and several others, 
■who afterwards became heroes in the revolution, the father of 
Daniel Webster, then but eighteen years of age, was enrolled 
to fight the battles of his country. Some of those battles are 
reputed as among the most brilliant ever fought even on the 
blood-stained soil of' New England. The services required of 
this band of men were exceedingly difficult and dangerous. 
They were to do their work in winter. They were to be 
doubly armed, to be prepared for all the rigors of the season, 
to carry with them snow-shoes that they might be able to march 
. through the trackless forests, ascend and descend the snow-clad 
mountains, and pursue the enemy without regard to the changes 
or chances of the weather. They were also to carry skates, to 
enable them to cross the frozen streams and lakes, or to meet 
the savage foe upon the ice. Into this company, for this busi- 
ness, and with these horrors in the prospect, Ebenezer Web- 
ster, the eldest son, was permitted to enlist. The love of coun- 
try was stronger than the love of family. The son went and 
performed his duty. The exploits of his company, when told 
by the few that lived to see their own fii-esides again, appeared 
like fiction ; and from that day, the survivors were marked 
men, the hei'oes of their neighborhoods, set down in public 
opinion as equal to any demand that could be made upon them. 
A demand afterwards arose. At the age of thirty-six, under 
the command of Stark, he was commissioned as a captain, and 
joined the army of the revolution. General Burgoyne had 
entered the territory of New York, He had taken Ticon- 
deroga, and was advancing, by rapid marches, across the state. 
His object seemed to be to penetrate New England and reach 
the seaboard. General Stark marched out to meet him. On 
his way, he fought the battle of Bennington, in which Captain 
Webster took a leading part. Subsequently, at the battle of 
White Plains, Webster was again among the heroes of the 



HIGU AND LOW BIRTH. 25 

day ; and, at a still later period, he had the satisfaction of wit- 
nessing, as a soldier, the surrender of the British general on 
the plains of Saratoga. 

hi other countries, to be descended from the most ancient 
family is accounted the greatest honor, la this, we have no 
prejudices of such a nature ; but if we kad, it would be 
honor enough for any young man to be ths son of a revolu- 
tionary soldier. Tliis honor Daniel Webster had ; and this, 
except that patent to nobility which nature stamped upon hia 
mind, was his only fortune. His father, it is true* before the 
close of the revolutionary war, had purchased a large tract of 
land north of Concord, in New Hampshire ; but the land was 
wild, the growth of the primeval forest still standing dense 
upon it. With his own hands, principally, the soldier cleared 
a few acres and erected a log cabin for liis family. In this 
humble spot, far enough from the refinements of life, such as 
tliey were in this countiy at that period, several of Daniel 
Webster's brothers and sisters were born ; but, upon his birth, 
his father had so improved in his circumstances, as to have built 
a small framed addition to the original structure. In this new 
part, Daniel first saw the light ; and nearly sixty years at 
terwards, he referred to the event in a characteristic mamier. 
In a speech delivered at Saratoga, in the month of August, 
1840, he was advocating the election of General Harrison, who 
was sneeringly styled the " log cabin candidate ; " and Mr. 
Webster took occasion, in a very beautiful and artful manner, 
to make capital out of the epithet for his client, by a reference 
which he knew would cast no dishonor upon himself: " It is 
only shallow-minded pretenders," said the orator, " who either 
make distinguished origin matter of personal merit, or obscure 
origin matter of personal reproach. Taunt and scoffing at the 
humble condition of early life, affect nobody in this country but 
cliosc who are foolish enough to indulge in them ; and they 
are generally sufiiciently punished by public rebuke, A man, 



26 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

who is not ashamed of himself, need not be ashamed of his 
early condition. It did not happen to me to be born in a log 
cabin, but my elder brothers and sisters were born in a log 
cabin, raised amid the snow-drjfts of New Hampshire, at a 
period so early, as that when the smoke first rose fi:'om its 
rude chhnney, and curled over the frozen hills, there was no 
similar evidence of a white man's habitation between it and the 
settlements on the rivers of Canada. Its remains still exist. 
I make to it an annual visit. I cany my children to it, to teach 
them the hardships endured by the generations which have 
gone before them. I love to dwell on the tender recollec- 
tions, the kindred ties, the early affections, and the touching 
narrations and incidents, which mingle with all I know of this 
primitive family abode. I weep to think that none of those 
who inhabited it are now among the living ; and if ever I am 
ashamed of it, or if I ever fail in affectionate veneration for him 
who raised it and defended it against savage violence and de- 
struction, cherished all the domestic virtues beneath its roof, 
and through the fire and blood of a seven years' revolutionary 
war slu-unk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice to serve his 
country, and to raise his children to a condition better than his 
own, may my name, and the name of my posterity, be blotted 
forever from the memory of mankind ! " 

The emphatic part of this quotation, however, is the reference 
made to the fither of the speaker. From every accouiit, and 
most of all, from every allusion made to him by his distin- 
guished son, it is certain that he must have been a man of un- 
common mold. His success, both in business and in his social 
standing, was decided. He became independent, if not wealthy ; 
he was frequently elected to represent his township m the state 
legislature ; and in advanced life he was appointed a judge of 
the court of common pleas, the duties of which he is said to 
have discharged, to the close of his career, with integrity and 
honor. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 27 

Such was the life of Ebenezer Webster. His character has 
been drawn by a master's hand : " He had in him," says Dan- 
iel Webster, in a letter, " what I recollect to have been the 
character of some of the old Puritans. He was deeply reli- 
gious, but not sour — on the contrary, good-humored, facetious 
— showing even in his age, with a contagious laugh, teeth all 
white as alabaster — gentle, soft, playful — and yet having a heart 
in him that he seemed to have borrowed from a lion. He 
would frown — a frown it was ; but cheerfulness, good-humor 
and smiles composed his most usual aspect." Did ever a fa- 
ther receive such a eulogy from such a son ! 

The house in which Daniel Webster was born does not noTV 
stand. There is no part of it left, excepting the cellar, which 
is a ruin, and, if preserved, will be a shrine. It lies on what is 
called the North Road, on the side of a hill which comes down 
to the bank of the Merrimack. Near this cellar stands a soli- 
tary tree, an apple-tree, which, though dead in its trunk, has 
sprouted from the roots below. It should be allowed to revive 
and mark the spot to be held in reverence by a whole people 
as long as it can be certainly defined. 

Still farther from the site of the old homestead is the family 
well, dug by Daniel Webster's father, who planted near it, 
about the year 1768, a young elm, which has now grown to be 
so larse as to cover with its branches a circle of a hundred feet 
in diameter. It is to this well, in particular, that Mr. Webster 
has made his annual pilgrimages for the last thirty years. It is 
there, under the shadow of that broad tree, that he has been 
accustomed to recline, in the soft weather of every summer, 
and think of his father and mother, of his brothers and sisters, 
of all the scenes of the family m that early day, and thus reju- 
venate his heart, and keep it tender and delicate, in spite of all 
the influences of his laborious public life. That well, and that 
tree, should be guarded safely, that they may remain to refresh 
the pilgrims who are yet to visit the birth-place of the greatest 

VOL. I. B 



28 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of Americans, fi-om every part of our own country, and fi'om 
other lands. 

Of the brothers and sisters of the great statesman, little is 
now known. They were persons, generally, of strong minds, 
sound sense, and sterling worth. As a family, like their ances- 
tors, they were notable for their religious sentiment, for the 
moderation of their views and feelings, and for their attachment 
to private life. Ezekiel, the brother next older than Daniel, 
became a lawyer of almost equal eminence, and was thought 
by many to have possessed a mind of equal strength. The 
mutual affection of these two brothers was remarkable. The 
younger was the first to obtam an education ; but he could not 
rest, and did not rest, till he had helped the elder through his 
course of study. Ezekiel died at the age of forty-nine, in the 
act of making a plea before a court at Concord ; and from that 
day till the hour of his own death, Daniel Webster was never 
known to mention his brother's name, or hear it mentioned, 
without shedding tears, or showing in his tremulous lips the 
depth of his emotions. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE YOUTH OF WEBSTER. 

Daniel Webster, both in infancy, and in Iiis early boyhood, 
was feeble in health and of a slender constitution. Being, also, 
the youngest son of his mother, he could hardly be other than 
the mother's pet ; but that mother, a woman of most extraor- 
dinary mind and character, knew how to foster and not spoil 
the child. 

As her darling boy could not bear his part with the other 
children, either in their home frolics, or in their attendance upon 
the distant school, she kept him very much in her own pres- 
ence, where she taught him the alphabet at an age so early, that 
he could never recollect the time when he could not read. She 
instructed him, also, by conversation. She would ask him ques- 
tions, on matters of some consequence, not so much to hear 
what he would say, as that he might learn to think. She would 
walk with him, at early morning, and show him the growing 
grass, the swelling bud, and the bursting and full-blown flow- 
ers' ; she would take him agam at nightfoll, as the stars began 
to shine, and point them out to him as they successively ap- 
peared ; she would lead him to the fields, and along the banks 
of the river, and up the rugged hills of the neighborhood, to 
give him a growing idea of the greatness of the external world. 
During all these rambles, she would teach him things as they 
are, rather than confine him to the mere pictures of things, rude 
and imperfect, as they appear in books. It is a remark of 
Burke, that, " in an inquiry, it is almost everything to be once 



30 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

in the right way ; " and it applies to the education of children 
with great force. The mother of Daniel Webster, though she 
had never heard of the English statesman, seemed to know the 
value of his maxim ; and she began the mental development 
of her son, as if she had been a philosopher, rather than a far- 
mer's wife. To such mothers America has been indebted, and 
will be indebted, for her greatest and her best. 

The first reading-book of Daniel Webster, which was given 
him by his mother, was the bible. He had scarcely learned 
the names of the letters of the alphabet, before he surprised her 
by reading aloud to her several verses ; and from that hour, she 
prophesied his future eminence, and doubled her exertions in- 
givmg him instructions and opening his mind. Sitting upon 
the hearthstone, or following her m her movements about the 
house, he would spend hours in reading those beautiful lessons 
for children so numerous in the sacred volume. He was par- 
ticularly delighted, at that time, with the books of Samuel and 
of Kings. All parts of the Old Testament then pleased him 
better than any of the New. The stories of Joseph, of Goliah, 
of Samson, of David and Jonathan, of Solomon ; the wars of 
Canaan, of the later Jews, of the great empires of the early 
times ; and all those episodes of universal history, so entertain- 
ing in themselves, and so beautifully told, captivated his young 
mind. In a very short time, he became a most excellent reader, 
his voice having then something of the depth, strength and 
flexibility of after years ; and it is related, that, when his father 
had opened his dwelling as a place of refreshment to travelers, 
custom was drawn to the house by the privilege afibrded the 
guests of hearing the child read. 

When older, Daniel became unwilling to exhibit himself in 
this manner ; but, when not at school, he used to take the 
book, which he happened to be reading at the time, and go into 
the forest, or down the river, or into some lonely glen, and read 
for many hours together. There was a sawmill not far from 



THE POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 31 

the house, which belonged to his father, in wMch he was put to 
work while yet a mere boy ; but such a boy would soon Icam 
to do any task, where mere skill is requisite, which could be 
intrusted to a man. There, after he had set the log and started 
the saw, he would sit and pore over his book, never forgetting, 
however, to attend to every demand of his labor at the proper 
time. In these ways, before he was twelve years old, he had 
read extensively in history, in travels, and in the English clas- 
sics ; and such was the grasp of his mind, and the tenacity of 
his memory, that he understood and remembered nearly every 
thing he perused. 

About this time, the boy chanced to be sent to a neighboring 
store. He there found a curiosity, or what was a curiosity to 
him. It was a pocket-handkerchief, covered all over with some- 
thing printed in good, fair type. All the money he had in the 
world was a quarter of a dollar ; and that was exactly the price 
of this rare specimen of a book. Of course, the bookish boy 
bought the curious thing and took it home. That evening, and 
till very late, he sat by the large fire-place, m the presence of 
• his father and mother, perusing, re-perushig, studying, commit- 
ting to memory, the remarkable production thus obtained. 
What philosopher will reveal the impressions, the influences, 
the results of that memorable night 1 What artist will picture 
the event"? It was Daniel Webster reading, for the first time, 
a copy of the constitution of his country ! 

At this period of his life, the future statesman could not bear 
an insult, or any thing Uke a personal opposition, any better 
than when, in after years, he made a senate and a party trem- 
ble at his frown. The story of his cock-fight is sufficient proof. 
One of his father's neighbors had a cock noted for his prowess. 
Among the feathery tribes he was the acknowledged monarch, 
and used to roam, ^-ith impunity, beyond the legitimate limits 
of his kingdom." More than once, at the head of his troop, he 
appeared on the territory belonging to a favorite fowl owned 



32 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

by Daniel. Hostile encounters frequently occuiTed between 
the barn-yard rivals, in which Daniel's pet was nearly always 
worsted. The boy, who was but the ungrown man, took the 
defeats of his champion as his own ; but he could not help him' 
self, or turn the victoij ia Iiio f-ivor with a beaten combatant. 
He was greatly chtigrined and even worried. At length, when 
on a visit to a distant relative, he heard of a cock famed all 
through those parts for his fighting propensities, and for his suc- 
cess in battle. Daniel at once purchased the pugnacious fowl, 
giving for it half a dollar, which was all his treasure. With 
his game-cock under his arm, though he had expected to spend 
several days on this visit, he promptly started for home. He had 
gone but a short distance, when he passed a yard well stocked 
with poultry, among which he saw a large cock strutting defi- 
ance to any thing that might venture to dispute his sway. 
Daniel thought it a good opportunity to test the value of his 
purchase. By a battle or two he could judge, with his o\vn 
eyes, whether he was destmed to meet with a victory at home. 
So, down went the cock from his arms, and the fight began. But 
it was soon over ; and the reputation of the new champion was 
triumphantly maintained. Several similar engagements took 
place on the journey, for, as in graver contests, one victory feeds 
the martial spirit, and each triumph is the seed of future battles. 
Not far from the set of sun, after numerous exploits of this 
nature, in which the result had been const<antly on the same 
side, the boy approached the yard where the only important 
engagement vv'as to be fought, and the question of supremacy 
was to be fairly tried. His cool judgment dictated the propri- 
ety of giving his champion a night's rest; but he could not sleep 
with so weighty a matter on his mind. He could not endure 
suspense. So, down went the war-worn cock again, and the 
sparring at once began. " For a while," as the statesman has 
told the story to his friend, "the contest was an even one ; but 
in ten minutes, lie had the satisfaction of seeing his hero victo- 



LETTER TO HIS MASTER. 33 

rious. He saw tne cock, against which he had the grudge, and 
which had again and again driven his own fowls from his own 
yard, led about by the comb, in a manner as degrading as the 
old Komans led their conquered foes, while celebrating their 
triumphs of arms. Wellington, after the battle of Waterloo, 
was not better satisfied with the results of the day, than he was 
with the results of his day." Years after this event, the states- 
man, Daniel Webster, took to liimself the credit of having a 
good talent for sleeping. That night, he undoubtedly slept 
well. 

Numerous anecdotes are told to show, that Daniel Webster, 
the boy, was as quick and as pertinent at a repartee, as ever was 
Daniel Webster, the man, the orator, the debater of his times. 
On a certain occasion, Daniel and Ezekiel had retired to bed ; 
but^ having been engaged in a literary dispute during the evening, 
they contmued the controversy in their room. Getting into a 
scuffle about a passage m one of their school books, they set their 
bed-clothes on fire. In the morning, they were severely ques- 
tioned upon the matter. Ezekiel, a very bashful boy, took the 
reproof silently ; but Daniel apologized by saying, that " they 
had only been in pursuit of light, of which, he confessed, they 
got more than they desired." 

The fu'st instructors that Daniel had at school were Thomas 
Chase and James Tappan. The former of these personages 
died many years ago; but the latter lived till after the 
decease of his most distinguished pupil. What influence IMr. 
Tappan had in opening the mind of his little pupil, is not cer- 
tain ; but whatever it was, or whether he performed any great 
part in the matter, Mr. Webster never forgot him, but seemed 
to remember him with gratitude. Li 1851, the old pedagogue 
addressed a letter to the statesman, reminding him of their for- 
mer connection. The statesman, though surrounded by the 
duties of his office, and overloaded with the cares of an empu-e, 



34 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

promptly returned an answer, which enclosed a bank-bill for 
fifty dollars : 

"Master Tappan, 
" I thank you for your letter, and am rejoiced to know that 
you are among the living. I remember you perfectly well as 
a teacher of my infant years. I suppose my mother must have 
taught me to read very early, as I have, never been able to rec- 
ollect the time when I could not read the Bible. I think Ivlas- 
ter Chase was my earliest schoolmaster, probably when I was 
tlu'ee or four years old. Then aime Master Tapjxin. You 
boarded at our house, and sometimes, I thmk, in the fiimily of 
Mr. Benjamin Sandborn, our neighbor, the lame man. Most 
of those whom you knew in 'New Salisbury' have gone to 
their graves. Mr. John Sandborn, the son of Benjamin, is yet 
living, and is about your age. ]\Ir. John Colby, who married 
my sister Susannah, is also living. On the North Road is Mr. 
Benjamin Pettingil. I think of none else among the living 
whom you would probably remember. You have, indeed, 
lived a chequered life. I hope you have been able to bear 
prosperity with meekness, and adversity with patience. These 
things are all ordered for us far better than we could order 
tliem for ourselves. We may pray for our daily bread ; we 
may pray for the forgiveness of sins; we may pray to be kept 
from temptation, and that the kingdom of God may come, in 
us, and in all men, and his will everywhere be done. Beyond 
this, we hardly know for what good to supplicate the divine 
mercy. Om* heavenly Father knoweth what we have need of, 
better than we know ourselves ; and we are sure that his eye 
and his loving kindness are upon us and around us every mo- 
ment. I thanlv you again, my good old schoolmaster, for your 
kind letter, which has awakened many sleeping recollections ; 
and, with all good wishes, I remain your friend and pupil, 

" Daniel Webster." 



VALUE OF LEARNING. 35 

During all the years of Daiiiel's boyhood, liis rnotlier contin- 
ued her efforts to instruct him so far as she was able, 
and undoubtedly gave liim liis first impressions respecting the 
value of a thorough education. The first impressions, however, 
were repeated and strengthened by the father. In a letter, 
written particularly to throw light upon this part of his history, 
the statesman has stated an incident, which must have been only 
a sample of many others : " Of a hot day in July — it must 
have been one of the last days of Wasliington's administration 
■ — I was making hay with my father, just where I now see a 
remaining elm tree, about the middle of the afl:ernoon. The 
Hon. Abicl Foster, I\I. C, who lived in Canterbury, six miles 
off, called at the house, and came into the field to see my 
father. He was a worthy man, college learned, and had been 
a minister, but was not a person of any considerable natural 
powers. My father was liis fi-iend and supporter. He talked 
awhile in the field, and went on his way. When he was gone, 
my father called me to him, and we sat down beneath the elm, 
on a hay-cock. He said, ' jSfy son, that is a worthy man — he 
is a member of congress — he goes to Philadelphia, and gets six 
dollars a day, while I toil here. It is because he had an educa- 
cation, which I never had. If I had had his early educiition, I 
should have been in Philadelphia in liis place. I came near it 
as it was. But I missed it ; and now I must work here. 'My 
dear lather,' said I, 'you shall not work. Brother and I will 
work for you, and wear our hands out, and you shall rest' — 
and I remember to have cried, and I cry now, at the recolleo- 
tion. ' My child,' said he, ' it is of no importance to me — I 
r.ow live but for my children; I could not give your elder bro 
' ther the advantages of knowledge, but 1 can do something for 
you. Exert yourself — improve your opportunities — learn — 
leara — and \^'hen I am gone you ^\•ill not need to go tlirough 
the hardships which I have undergone, and which have made 
oac an old man before my time.' " 

VOL. I. B* 3 



36 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

It seems, in fact, from many circumstances connected with 
the boyhood of Webster, and from several anecdotes not im- 
portant now to be repeated, that his father and mother both ap- 
preciated the remarkable talents of their son ; but the first reli- 
able evidence of his genius, or that which must have been the 
strongest at that time, was given to Mr. Thomas W. Thomp- 
son, a young lawyer, who had only a little before set up an 
office in the place. Having no students, and yet wishing to 
keep his door open, whether at home or absent, that his clients 
might always know when to expect him, he engaged Daniel to 
sit in the office, whenever he should be away, to give to stran- 
gers the proper information. The arrangement was entered 
into by the consent of all concerned. He was to sit there, not 
to do any sei-vice ; but such a mind as that of Daniel Web- 
ster, though he was then but thirteen years of age, could 
not stand still in a room occupied, more or less, with books and 
papers. Among so many of both kinds, however, as must 
have been found on the premises of a man of talents and am- 
bition, as Mr. Thompson was, there would be something of a 
choice. Besides law books, there were probably some histories, 
some books of poetry, some of travels, some biographies, some 
romances and other works of fiction. Any one of these would 
have been interesting to the little office keeper ; and most boys 
would have made a selection from them. But it was not so 
with Daniel, His choice was a book most repulsive to lads of 
his age generally; but, it was one, which a better judgment 
than an ordinary boy's would consider as the most useful. It 
was a Latin grammar, which Mr. Thompson had saved as a 
relic from his own days of classical study. This volume, a 
very poor companion, probably, by the side of the gi'ammai's 
of later generations, Daniel committed entirely to memory, 
and repeated it aloud to his new friend and future patron. Mr, 
Thompson was surprised. He was surprised, not only at the 
taste of the youth, but at the tenacity and readiness of liis mem- 



IS TO BECOME A SCHOOL TEACHER. 37 

cry. He was surprised to see a boy perform such a feat without 
any apparent object. It seemed to him only the playful fi-olic of 
a little giant without employment. He concluded at once, that 
such a mind ought to have employment ; and the incident was 
mentioned to the father, who was evidently pleased, but did not 
seem to be struck by it as if it were anything not to be ex- 
pected. The ti-uth is, he knew the talents of his son ; but he 
now began to think more seriously, under the advice of Mr, 
Thompson, about setting him fi-ee immediately from manual 
labor, that he might commence in earnest a course of life bet- 
ter fitted to his capacities. 

It is the advice of a French writer, who has addressed many 
valuable maxims to the young : "Aim high, aim at the highest 
mark ; for it is as easy to shoot at the sun, as at a clod of earth; 
and by shooting high, you will not be so likely to hit the 
ground." This precept has roused the ambition of many 
youths; bat it was too elevated for the ambition, at that time, 
of Daniel Webster's flxther. After a deliberation with his wife, 
to which Mr. Thompson was invited, it was settled, that Dan- 
iel should be released from the labors of the flu-ra, and sent to 
some good academy, that he might prepare himself for the use- 
ful and honorable profession of a country school teacher ! 

The choice of an institution could not be a matter of much 
debate, as Phillips' Academy, at Exeter, New Hampshire, was 
among the best of New England, and not very distant. Mr. 
Webster has often told the story of his journey : The roads, 
at that time, were exceedingly bad even in New England, where 
they are now so smooth and agreeable. There were few car- 
riages in the country, as they could not be much used. It was 
the custom, as in all new countries, to ride on horses, not only 
to places quite near, but to localities Ihe most remote. It was 
so on this occasion. Mr. Webster, and his son, went to Exe- 
ter on horse-back ; and there was one circumstance in the story 
of the ride to which the son, to liis latest days, used to refer 



38 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

wdlh laughter and delight. A neighbor was desirous, on the 
very day of the departure, of sending a horse and side-saddle 
to Exeter for the convenience of a lady, who wished to ride 
back to Salisbury. The order of travel, therefore, put Mr. 
Webster, senior, on the back of one of his own horses, and 
Mr. Webster, junior, on the horse with the lady's saddle. " So," 
as the junior Webster used afterwards to say, with great mer- 
riment, " my first appearance in the world was that of a boy 
of fourteen riding behind my father on the saddle of a woman." 

On the third day of their journey, they reached their place 
of destination so early in the afternoon, that the inhabitants of 
the village saw, what they afterwards remembered, the first en- 
trance of Daniel Webster into Exeter, tlien the Athens of 
New Hampshire. 

Daniel's introduction to this school has been often published. 
The principal of the institution was Benjamin Abbott, LL. D., 
at that time a man of consequence in the field of letters, and 
since the patriarch of American instructors. Through life, he 
was pompous in his manners, though his excessive dignity never 
seemed to rise from any pride of disposition. The father and 
son, on the morning after their arrival, walked up to the Acad- 
emy ; and the father stated to the Principal the object of his 
visit. 

" Well, sir," said he, puttmg on his cocked hat, " let the 
young gentleman be presented for examination." 

The lad, holding his hat in his hand — and no man ever held 
a hat more elegantly than did he in after life — modestly ap- 
proached the magnificent and fearful dignitary, and stood before 
him. Though never in such a place before, it was certainly a 
trait of his in mature age, and probably in his youth, not only 
to be entirely self possessed, but to know and feel at the instant, 
from a quick, intuitive perception, what is fit to be said and 
done. His manner, though very modest and becoming a per- 
son of his youthfulness, in spite of the lofty demeanor of the 



ENTERS THE ACADEMY. 39 

Preceptor, seemed to say — " Here I am, sir, what -will you 
have me do ? " 

" What is your age 1 " 

" Fourteen." 

" Take this bible, my lad, and read that chapter." It was 
the twenty-second chapter of the Gospel according to St, Luke. 
It could scarcely have been a more difficult chapter for a faulty 
reader, or a better one for the display of such a reader as was, 
even at that time, Daniel Webster. He took the volume 
handed him and began. A few verses, generally, are all that 
are required on such occasions, but the boy had not gone far, 
before the high-headed listener became absorbed in the manner 
of the reader, and lost a portion of his own self-possession. 
The reading was new to him. The boy, as it was afterwards 
with the man, seemed to banish everything from his thoughts 
but the business then in hand. He threw himself wholly into 
his performance, and yet without overdoing it. His voice was 
exceedingly sonorous and musical. There were a depth, a 
richness, a flexibility in it, wliich could not fail to arrest atten- 
tion ; and then his appreciation of what he read, his change of 
style to suit the changes of his topics, his correct emphasis, his 
beautiful inflections, in fact his elocution, for he was then au 
orator without knowing it, captivated the stifi" doctor, and lim- 
bered his dignity not a little. Daniel, after reading the chap- 
ter out, shut the book and handed it to his Preceptor, who, 
w^ithout farther examination, was satisfied. 

" Young man," said he, " you are qualified to enter this insti- 
tution." 

It is doubtful whether there was another person in Exeter, 
besides the new pupil, who could have read so large an extract 
with equal force and elegance. 

It has been unwisely said, by those who wish to give undue 
credit to the natural abilities of Mr. Webster, in contradis- 
tinction to the powers acquired by education, that he had no 



40 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

training in his youtli, and very meager academical opportuni- 
ties. The care taken of his mind by his mother, during all tiie 
early years of his boyhood, seconded by the assent and encour- 
agement of his father, are a sufficient denial of the first part of 
this statement ; and, as to his academical course, though brief, 
it could not have been undertaken at an institution better adapted 
to his peculiar character, or more likely to give him the great- 
est development in the shortest time. Phillips' Academy, 
though lower than a college, has equalled any college of the 
country in the rearing of great men. Within its halls, such 
men as Lewis Cass, Levi Woodbury, Jared Sparks, George 
Bancroft, John G. Palfi-ey, Joseph S. Buckminster, and both the 
Everetts, obtained the first rudiments of their classical educar 
tion, and, doubtless, their strongest aspirations to a thorough, 
earnest and great life. It was there, too, that Daniel Webster 
began to take hold of intellectual matters with a giant's grasp, 
and prove to himself, and to his friends, the depth and breadth 
of his own intellectual might. 

During the nine months of his stay at Exeter, he accom 
plished as much for himself, according to every account, as most 
young gentlemen would have accomplished in two years. When 
he left, he had as thoroughly mastered grammar, arithmetic, 
geography and rhetoric, as the majority of college graduates 
usually have done after a full collegiate course. lie had also 
made rapid progress in the study of the Latin language. Dr. 
Abbott, appreciating fully the capacity of his most remarkable 
pupil, did not tie him down to the ordmary routine of study, 
nor compel him to lag behind with the other pupils, but ga\e 
him free scope, and a loose rein, that he might do his utmost ; 
and the venerable Preceptor, after the lapse of more than half 
a century, during all which time he continued to be a teacher, 
declared on a public occasion, that Daniel Webster's equal, in 
the power of amassing knowledge, he had never seen, and never 
expected to see again. It is not enough to say of him, accord- 



COULD NOT DECLAIM. 41 

ing to Dr. Abbott's description of him at this time, that he had 
a quick perception and a memory of great tenacity and strength. 
He did not seem ])arely to read and remember, as other people 
do. He appeared, rather, to grasp the thoughts and facts given 
by his author, with a peculiar force, to incorporate them into 
his mental being, and thus make them a part of himself. It is 
said of Sir Isaac Newton, that, after reading for the first time 
the geometry of Euclid, and on being asked what he thought of 
it, modestly observed, that he knew it all before. lie under- 
stood geometry, it seems, by intuition, or by a perception so 
rapid as to appear like intuition ; but it was also true of the 
great astronomer, that he had great difficulty of remembering 
even his own calculations, afler he had gone through them. 
Daniel Webster, on the other hand, though endowed with a 
very extraordinary quickness of insiglit, worked harder for his 
knowledge than did Newton ; but when once he had gained a 
point, or learned a fact, it remained witli him, a part of his own 
essence, forever afterwards. His mind was also wonderfully 
fertile. A single truth, which, with most boys of his age, 
would have remained a single truth, in him became at once a 
starting-point for a remarkable scries of ideas, original and sti-i- 
king, gi-ow'ing up out of the seed sown, by that mighty power 
of reflection, in which no youth of his years, probably, was ever 
his superior. 

It is singular, however, though not unaccountable, that, at this 
period of his life, he could not speak in public. Li a brief me- 
moir of his first tutor at Exeter, Joseph S. Buckminster, he 
makes an allusion to this circumstance. " jMy first lessons in 
Latin," says he, " were directed by Joseph Stevens Buckmin- 
ster, at that time an assistant at the academy. I made tolera- 
ble progress in all the branches I attended under his instruc- 
tion ; but there was one thing I could not do. I could not 
make a declamation — I could not speak befure the school. The 
kmd and excellent Buckminster espccuilly sought to persuade 



42 WEBSTER A\D HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

me to perform the exercise of declivmation, like otlicr boys, but 
I could not do it. Many a piece did I commit to memory, and 
rehearse in my own room, over and over again ; but when 
the day came, when the school collected, when ray name was 
called, and I saw all eyes turned upon my seat, I could not 
raise myself from it. Sometimes the masters frowned, some- 
times they smiled. Mr. Buckmlnster always pressed and en- 
treated with the most winning kindness, that I would venture 
only once ; but I could not command sufficient resolution ; and 
when the occasion was over, I went home and wept tears of 
bitter mortification." 

" Here, then," says an anonymous biographer of Webster, 
"is a striking fact: the )nan, who, during his first nine months 
at an academy, though a good reader, and naturally self-pos- 
sessed, coiild not deliver a speech ! and yet, afterwards, he be- 
came the greatest orator of his time! Bashful boys, take 
courage ! " 

This, undoubtedly, is a very good practical mora], which 
those concerned may well heed ; but the philosopher will look 
into the causes of this anomalous timidity, and give some ac- 
count of it to himself A man will do with indifference that in 
wliich he is conscious he is^ not destined to excel ; but brinar 
him to the matter, whatever it may be, which, his heart and 
soul tell him, and every fibre of his being constantly assures 
him, is the thing for which he Avas made, which is to form the 
glory of his life, the burden of 'his fame, and the man shrinks 
from it, dreads to undertake it, pauses, trem.bles, fears, and per- 
ha^is flies from it. It is the momentous feeling of responsibility, 
of responsibility to himself and to his calling, and that keen 
and nervous sensibility that always comes with genius, which 
make him modest, and sometimes timid, in what he has the 
greatest promise of success. More than one man of parts, who 
Las resolved on some great work of art, some master-piece, to 
which he would commit his reputation, has spent the whole of 



INFLUENCE OF DR. ABBOTT. 43 

his life ill tlie execution of minor works, to which he attributed 
no value, only as they were studies preparing him for tlie grand 
design, and thus lived and died without ever touching the work 
which was to have immortalized his name. 

After remaining in tlie school at Exeter about nine months, 
young Webster left, never to return to it ; but the impressions 
made there upon his mind he never lost. He never lost any- 
thing, in fact, which he had once fairly possessed. Among the 
recollections of the academy, which he often mentioned, and 
which he carried with him to his grave, his early and continued 
veneration for his Preceptor took, perhaps, the most conspicu- 
ous place. Dr. Abbott was a wonderful man ; he was univer- 
sally respected by his pupils ; and it has been thought by some, 
that he not only was the first to rouse the ambition of Daniel 
Webster to its utmost pitch, but imparted to him a portion of 
his own dignity of manner. He continued at the institution at 
Exeter till 1839 ; and, on his retirement, at the age of seventy- 
seven, his scholars made it the occasion of a grand rally, from 
all parts of the Union, to the shades of the old academy. It 
must have been a scene of surpassing interest. The notices 
given of it in the public prints, though brief, and even meager, 
will help an imaginative mind to get an idea of the reality, and 
to look back, with an appreciating eye, on the influences so 
early at work on the destiny of Daniel Webster. " Having 
attained the age of seventy-seven years, and having filled the 
measiu-e of his long and faithful services, Dr. Abbott an- 
nounced his determmation to resign his oflice at the conclusion 
of the summer term. This was to a large number of his pu- 
pils, to all whose health or business would permit their attend- 
ance, a signal for a spontaneous rally once more around their 
venerable teacher and friend, to ofter him a heart-felt tribute of 
gratitude and respect. His portrait, painted by Harding for 
the occasion, will faithfully transmit the lineaments of his coun- 
tenance to after days. The dining hall, selected for the festival, 



44 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

was filled by a long procession of Dr. Abbott's former pupils, 
from all parts of the country, once more gladdened by the fa- 
miliar salutation, and grown young again in the presence of their 
ancient instructor; renewing the friendships which time had 
interrupted ; revisiting the homes of the hospitable inhabitants 
which had sheltered their early days ; tracing once more the 
scenes of their boyish sports, and sadly bidding farewell to 
friends, whom most of them were to see no more. Political 
and all other divisions were, for the time, forgotten, as they lis- 
tened to the eloquent and appropriate addresses of Daniel 
Webster, Edward Everett, and the other speakers, whom the 
occasion inspired. All eyes were directed to the man of the 
day. Dr. Abbott had prepared an address to the assembly. 
They clustered about him in breathless expectation. He arose 
to tender his acknowledgments and a parting benediction. The 
scenes and events of so many years came crowding upon his 
mind. His 'boys,' of days long gone by, were gathei'ed in his 
presence with every demonstration of the warmest attachment. 
His eye fell upon those whom he had instructed, counseled, 
guided, and for whom his prayers had so often ascended to the 
throne of mei'cy. Some had fallen asleep. Perhaps at that 
moment of intense emotion, the image of his lamented son, 
taken from him in eaiiy life, miglit have passed before his 
mind, as it glanced from the present to the past. Overcome 
by the conflict of his emotion, he faltered and paused. His 
utterance was choked ; his eyes were filled with tears ; and he 
sank into his seat, wholly unable to proceed, amid the S3'mpa- 
thy, the enthusiasm, and the overwheLning applause of the 
whole concourse." 

The relative standing of Daniel Webster, as a scholar, while 
attending school at Exeter, will be sufficient to dissipate the idle 
stories set afloat by those who wish to give all the credit of 
his greatness to nature, and to depreciate the value of a thorough 
discipline, of a careful education. It was the practice, it would 



FIRST SCHOLAR OF THE SCHOOL. 45 

seem, at Exeter academy, to place all new pupils at the foot of 
the lowest class, leaving each to demonstrate his fitness for a 
higher position. This regulation was always trying, and some- 
times disheartening. It was so in the case of Daniel. He 
began at the bottom of the school ; and, a poor country boy as 
he was, with a head too big for his slender body, and with eyes 
too large for his head, he may have made a laughable appear 
ance by the side of the boys from Boston, and other large 
towns, who came there well dressed, and with heads and eyes, 
probably, of no very remarkable expression. At all events, 
the city boys laughed at the country boy ; and the country 
boy, with a soul as keen as the apple of an eye, was chagrined, 
discouraged, and almost despairing. All this, too, when en- 
tirely unknown to himself, he was winning golden opinions from 
his teachers, and surprising them hourly by his masterly exhi- 
bitions of mental power. After school, weary of his thoughts 
and sadly crest-fallen, he would go to his lodgings, to weep and 
study, to study and weep, in secret. His tutors encouraged 
him ; but that availed him little, while the well-dressed boys 
laughed. His time, however, at length came. One morning, 
when he had been in school about a month, Mr. Nicholas Em- 
ery, who was then an instructor at Exeter, marshaled the boys 
of his department before him for a general recitation. It was 
then that the laughed-at boy, and the laughing boys, could meet 
flice to face, and try the questions of laughing and of being 
laughed at, before a competent tribunal. When the recitation 
was over, and each one had done his best, the master gave his 
decision in the following language : " Webster, you will pass 
into the other room, and join a higher class. Boys, you will 
take your final leave of Webster, for you will never see him 
again ! " 

The next winter, after lea\nng Exeter, he devoted to study 
at home, and to teaching a class of young people of about his 
own age. His school assembled in the house of his uncle Wil- 



46 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

liam Webster, where he gave them all the insti-uction they re- 
quired, without mateiially retarding the progress of his own in- 
tellectual pursuits. The act of teaching, in fact, was doubtlei's 
of great benefit to him at that time. It gave him a fine op- 
portunity for reviewing his former studies ; and it impressed 
upon his mmd, more deeply than ever, the first rudiments of 
an English education, in which even our public men, and the 
greatest of them, are frequently deficient. 

At the village of Boscawen, a place not far from Salisbury, 
lived the Eev. Samuel Wood, LL. D., a man of great learn- 
ing, a patron of the young and aspiring, and an ardent friend 
of a liberal education. He graduated at Dartmouth, in 1779, 
with the highest honors of his class. His time, and talents, and 
means, were all devoted to the spread of piety and knowledge 
among the people of his charge, hi the course of a long life, 
he is said to have helped, in one way or in another, more than 
one hundred and fifty pupils. Of these, more than a hundred 
entered college, nearly fifty became mmisters of the gospel, 
about twenty became lawyers, some of whom were very emi- 
nent," and eight or ten became physicians. It is related, that, in 
his advanced years, he could count, among his older pupils, sev- 
eral governors, a number of councilors of state, some distin- 
guished judges, and some members of congress. As an en- 
courager of youth, as a mind to make his mark upon other 
minds, he was probably quite superior to Dr. Abbott. In his 
zeal for the cause of learning, he actually went about searching 
for the objects of his charity, and for those whose native abili- 
ties gave promise of distinguished usefulness. Such a man 
could not fail to fall in with such a youth as Daniel Webster. 
The two met in Salisbury, and the result of the meeting could 
not be doubtful. Daniel soon after became a pupil of Dr. 
Wood, with whom he stayed several months, and who fully- 
appreciated the remarkable capacities of his new acquaintance. 
The teacher had soon done what was necessary to fit the scholar 



IS TO GO TO COLLEGE. 47 

for the university ; but the idea of entering college, or of ever 
seeing more than the outside of one, liad uevei dawned upon 
the highest summit of his ambition. 

Dr. Wood, who was a prudent man, did not venture to men- 
tion the matter of a college education to Daniel, until he had 
made due preparation for the amiouncement. He wrote to Dr. 
Abbott. Dr. Abbott replied to Dr. Wood. Dr. Wood, with 
the letter of Dr. Abbott, and with his own warm heart and judi- 
cious head, went to Colonel Webster, the father of the youth, 
and laid his plan before him. It seemed to the father too great 
an undertaking. He was then poor, comparatively, at least not 
rich, when the size of his family is tjiken into consideration. 
He thought, too, that the act of sending one of his boys to col- 
lege, while the others had had only the first rudiments of an 
education, would be an act of partiality. These, and all similar 
sa-uples, were finally overcome by the eloquence and zeal wliich 
accompanied the application. The question was at last decided. 
It was decided in the affirmative. Dr. Abbott and Dr. Wood 
were to open the door of Dartmouth; and Daniel Webster was 
to go to college. 

The decision was made ; but it was not reported to the one 
most interested. For several days, Daniel knew nothing of it. 
He was still studying his books, and pursuing his usual avoca- 
tions, as if he was about finishing his literaiy course, pre- 
paratory to his becoming a coimtry schoolmaster. Colonel 
Webster seemed to be even coy about stating to Daniel the 
important result of his deliberations. The ti'uth is, the father 
and the son were both exceedin":lv delicate in their sensibili- 
ities ; both would probably be moved by such a revelation ; 
and a matter of this magnitude could not be mentioned by the 
one, or listened to by the othez-, excepting at a proper time, and 
under fitting circumstances. The time at length came. One 
day, as they were driving alone to Boscawen in a iiide sleigh, 
when the horses had slackened their speed in the ascent of a 



48 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

long hill, the secret was told : " I remember," says Daniel 
Webster, in his own account of the conversation, " the very hill 
which we were ascending, through deep snows, in a New Eng- 
land sleigh, when my father made known this purpose to me. 
I could not speak. How could he, I thought, with so large a 
family and in such narrow circumstances, think of incurring so 
great an expense for me, A warm glow ran all over me ; and 
I laid my head on my father's shoulder and wept." What art- 
ist will give the world a picture of this scene ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

WEBSTER IN COLLEGE. 

The first appearance of Daniel Webster at Dartmouth has 
been given to the public by his class-mate, subsequently a mem- 
ber of the Faculty of that college, Professor Shurtliff : " When I 
came to enter this kstitution, in. 1797, I put up, with others 
from the same academy, at what is now called the Olcott House, 
which was then a tavern. We were conducted to a chamber, 
where we might brush our clothes and make ready for exami- 
nation. A young man, a etrangcr to us all, was soon ushered 
into the room. Similarity of object rendered the ordinary 
forms of introduction needless. We learned that his name was 
Webster, also where he had studied, and how much Latin and 
Greek he had read, which, I think, was just to the limit pre- 
scribed by law at that period, and which Avas very much below 
the present requisition." 

Webster had come from home through a violent rain. He 
wore a suit of blue, dyed at home, as well as woven and made 
up at home. It need not be doubted, that the color of the 
cloth may not have been very fast, for the art of dyeing was 
not likely to be thoroughly understood, or well practiced, in the 
backwoods of New Hampshire at that time. Be tliis as it 
may, when Daniel arrived at his hotel, according to his own ac- 
count, he made no figure calculated to help him in the presence 
of his examiners. The rain liad completely soalced his gar- 
ments ; the indigo, which had taken only the slight hold men- 
tioned on the texture of the cloth, had run down upon his liraba 



50 WEUSTEK AND JUS MASTER-PIECES. 

and arms; and, in wiping tiie water from his face, he had spread 
the color over his eyes and arouijd his mouth and chin. The 
professors were waiting for him on his arrival. He had no 
time to make due preparation. Soaked with rain, his garments 
stiff and smoking, and his face spotted and smeared with indigo, 
he hastened to meet the Faculty, on their summons, to pass the 
great ordeal of his life. He has often laughed at the figure he 
cut that day, when, as he used to express it, " he was not only 
black Dan but bhie Dan." He is reported, nevertheless, to 
have passed a good examination. According to his usual man- 
ner, and in spite of the disadvantages of his appearance, he was 
entirely selfpossessed. What he lacked in classical lore, he 
more than made up by the ease and dignity with which he re- 
lated- to his judges the early beginning of his education, how 
many books of the course he had read, what authors outside of 
it he had perused, and all the matters concurrent to the case in 
hand, which he narrated with as much eloquence, probably, 
simple and direct, as any of them had ever heard. His case 
was easily decided. U he was not the best scholar, which 
could hardly be expected of a youth prepared for college in 
about ten or eleven months, he was certainly the most remark- 
able and promising member of his class. This the professors 
all saw as soon as he stood up before them. They saw it more 
plainly when they listened to his voice. Even then, according 
to the testimony of two of his classmates, one of whom is still 
living, he was as dignified, as easy, as elegant, as he ever was 
in alter life. His appeal to the Faculty, after his examination 
was concluded, and they were about to deliberate, as he thouo-ht, 
upon his merits, was exactly after the manner of his riper 
years. Referring to the haste, in which he had been sum- 
moned l)cf<)re them, and the unfortunate apsect he presented, 
he made use of language, which, before many a tribunal, would 
have gained the case : " Thus you see me," said he, " as I am, 
if not entitled to yoiu- approbation, at least to your sympathy." 



DEMEANOR AS A STLDEKT. 51 

His general demeanor as a student is worthy of particular 
remark : " i\ir. Webster, while in college," says Professor 
Shurtliff, " was remarkable for his steady habits, his intense ap- 
plication to study, and his punctual attendance upon all the pre- 
scribed exercises. 1 know not that he was absent from a reci- 
tation, or from moDiing and evening prayers in the chapel, or 
from public worship on the Sabbath ; and I doubt if ever a 
smile was seen upon his face durino; any relijjious exercise. He 
was always in his place, and with a decorum suited to it. He 
had no collision with any one, nor appeared to enter into 
the concerns of others, but emphatically minded his own busi- 
ness. But as steady as the sun, he pursued with intense ajy- 
plkation the great object for which he came to college," ISIany 
a young man m college has been misled, deceived, mined by 
the vaunted examples, like those of Byron and of Shelly, of 
successful idleness. They forgot, however, while following such 
guides, the laborious efforts of nine-tenths of the greatest men 
of modern history. If they wish to behold another proof of 
the value of hard study, let them look here into the early life 
of Daniel Webster, who, though endowed by nature beyond 
any one of his day, did not i-each the highest eminence, nor 
could he satisfy the requirements of his mind, without the most 
diligent and thorough application to his studies. 

The freshman and sophomore classes at Dartmouth, at tliis 
time, devoted themselves to the rudiments of the mathematics, 
to the Latiia and Greek languages, and to regular exercises in 
speaking and in composition, hi mathematics, especially the 
higher mathematics, Daniel Webster took no great interest, as 
he did not regard this branch of study as very practical, nor 
therefore as very important. His mind, indeed, always 
leaned toward facts, and the proper use of facts, rather than to- 
ward calculations. The languages, however, were his delight. 
He pursued them as did no other student of the institution. 
He went to the bottom of them, making himself thoi'oughly 
VOL. I. C 4 



52 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

acquainted with their elements, their first principles, and their 
philosophy. He was the l3est, the deepest, grammarian of his 
college. He studied carefully the origin, the history, the exact 
meanings, and the perversions of words. His philosophical and 
comprehensive mind would not be satisfied with knowing the 
use of words simply, but he at once sought out their relations 
to other words, and put them into their etymological places 
according to their mutual relationships, thus abridging the im- 
mense task of learning the vocabulary of the languages by ma- 
king out for himself brief and logical classifications. He paid 
special attention, also, to the formation of a good style of ren- 
dering his classics into English. He endeavored to catch the 
manner of his author and then copy it in his version. He thus 
studied language and rhetoric together. Among all the works 
of the first two years, Ocero, as miglit be expected, was his 
favorite author. Ilim he read, day and night, not barely as a 
school-boy, but as a philosopher, as a critic, and particularly 
with a view to a knowledge of the fundamental principles of 
elocution. He would read, and re-read, those orations which 
charmed the Roman senate and the Eoman people, as if they 
were liis own speeches, and he was delivering them to an actual 
auditory. He made himself perfectly familiar with them, so 
that he could repeat several of them from memory, and make 
large quotations fromanyof them, without a moment's warning. 
After uttering long passages to his class-mates, he would criticise 
their style, showing up the faults, or pointing out the merits, 
of the great orator. In this way, he made the pervading spirit 
of Roman eloquence, in its highest form, his OAvn spirit, a part 
of his own way of thinking and of speaking, which continued 
with him, and w'as afterwards always manifest in him, in his 
greatest efforts. 

It was at this time, too, that he acquired that taste for classic 
poetry, and especially his partiality for Virgil, which never left 
him. The author of the iEneid, next to Cicero, was to liim 



HIS LOVE OF THE CLASSICS. 53 

the most captivating of the Roman writers. He read the 
poems of this classic, and particularly his great epic, so re- 
peatedly and constantly, that he could quote the most remark- 
able passages, while yet a boy, as he used to quote them after 
he became a man. Those who have had the good fortune to 
hear him, on the platform, or at the bar, or in the senate, have 
often wondered at the readiness with which, on the spur of a 
moment, without the opportunity of any preparation, he would 
rise to his feet, and, in the course of an extemporaneous debate, 
not only utter himself in the most classic English, but make 
the most apposite quotations from the Roman classics, and es- 
pecially fi-om the Roman poets. His quotations always seemed 
to be, indeed, more to the point, than those of any other ora- 
tor of modern times. This tacility, which was actually a pow- 
er, he laid the foundation for during his fa-st and second years 
in college. 

While he was thus making such deep and lasting acquisi- 
tions in' the department of language, it must not be supposed, 
that, though not enthusiastic in the mathematics, he was neg- 
lectful of them. It was never his habit to neglect anything that 
properly belonged to him. He studied this branch well, and 
obtained a good reputation in it ; and, iii spite of the modera- 
tion of his zeal in these studies, he was always at home, and 
could stand his ground under the most critical examination. It 
is prol)able, however, that it was sometimes his power of mind, 
rather than his knowledge, by which he maintained his points, 
and made himself even popular in this department. " He 
gained me," says the venerable Judge Woodward, at that time 
the professor of mathematics, " by combatting my opinions ; 
for I often attacked him, merely to try his strength." 

During the whole of these first two years, he devoted a great 
share of his time to general reading and to composition. His 
class-mates spent their hours principally in preparing their les- 
sons, makhig but few excursions into the world of knowledge 



64 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

outside of their class-room authors. He, on the other hand, 
after making a thorough preparation for his recitations, found 
time to read extensively in history, in poetry, and in criticism. 
American and English history, however, and the American 
and English classical belles-lettres writers, were his chief 
study. The history of England he studied with a gloxdng 
interest. He seemed to have a passion for it. Every book 
written about England, for or against, historical, political, or de- 
scriptive, he devoured. The discovery and first settlement of 
this country, also, the struggles of the several American plan- 
tations, the wars with the hadians, and everything pertaining to 
that primitive period of oui* annals, he read with equal interest. 
Our great men were then just in the act of giving a perma- 
nent existence, an estabhshed character, to our national govern- 
ment. "What they were doing, and what they generally pro- 
posed to do, arrested and occupied his serious attention. From 
the day of the cotton handkerchief, he had been a student and 
a great admirer of the constitution. While in college, he could 
repeat it, and did more than once repeat it, from beginning to 
end, from recollection. He could remark upon it, too, and that 
wisely, as well as rehearse it. He took special pleasure in 
tracing the various provisions of the constitution to something 
that had preexisted in the institutions of Great Britam, or to 
the historical attempts made, at different periods, by the En- 
glish pah'iots, to introduce new features into the government 
of their country. Questions frequently arose, in the debates 
of the students, relating to English and American affairs, in 
none of which could any student stand a moment against the 
thorough knowledge, the wide views, the deep reasoning, and 
the gracefol as well as commanding and overpowering elocu- 
tion of Daniel \yebster. 

Not only in books, studied as described with the ardor of a 
devotee, and with the penetration of a philosopher, but from 
livmg examples, from existing models, did he pursue his inves- 



STUDIES THE GREAT ORATORS. 55 

ligations respecting eloquence. The same spirit, which, at Ex- 
eter, would not suffer him to make a cleclaniation, was now 
burning in his bosom like a vestal fire, and urging him on to a 
most profound knowledge of the principles and practice of true 
oratory. After Cicero had become as familiar to him as his 
alphabet, he read Demosthenes with great animation, but, per- 
haps, not with so perfect an appreciation. The mind of De- 
mosthenes, though forcible, was not so wide and comprehensive 
as to make him, m this respect, preeminent. He was a man 
of sound thought, of clear ideas, of gi-eat skill in argument ; 
but his feme arose rather fi-om the quickness and keenness of 
his temper, from the rapidity of his conceptions, from the im- 
petuosity of his spirit, from the irresistible bursts of his fiery 
passion. Such a man, such a mind, could not be the favorite 
with a cool, deliberate, broad, slow, but mighty mind, like that 
of Daniel Webster. Demosthenes, though laborious in writing 
out his speeches, did not think enough, was not calm enough, 
for Webster. Cicero, on the other hand, was calm. He was 
also deep, wide, philosophical, and yet passionate. There were 
many points of resemblance between the American and the 
Eoman ; and the Roman was always, both in youth, and in 
mature age, the chosen model, so far as there was any model, 
with the great American. The truth is, however, young Web- 
ster made no one man his model. The classic orators were 
read, studied, criticised ; and all that suited the temper and 
taste of the student were thoroughly incorporated into his own 
mental being. But he studied, particularly at about the end of 
his first two years in college, the English and American orators 
with as much zeal as ever he had studied the Roman and the 
Grecian. What a galaxy of groat debaters were then before 
liim, in England and in this country ! Pitt, Fox, Burke, on the 
other side of the Atlantic, had electrified all Europe, and im- 
Bioitalized their names, in the wilds of a new continent, by those 
wonderful efforts, the like of which Europe had never before 



56 ■ WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

witnessed. On this side of the Atlantic, Fisher Ames, Patrick 
Henry, Samuel and John Adams, and Alexander Hamilton, 
had won for themselves, both here and in England, an equal im- 
mortality. All these great orators were thoroughly studied by 
young Webster. No man could he meet from Boston, or from 
New York, or from Philadelphia, where our eloquent patriots 
were most in the habit of making their celebrated speeches, but 
the young student would exhaust the vocabulary m asking ques- 
tions about their personal appearance, their style of speaking, 
their voice, their gesture, their general demeanor on the plat- 
form. ]n this way, he acquired a large stock of the most use- 
ful information, respecting the art that nature had chosen for 
him ; and he thus drew up lois ovm judgment, and formed his 
own style, with the advantages of much previous study, and 
from a wide induction of the most illustrious examples. If 
there was any one individual, that deserves to be considered as 
Daniel Webster's model in oratory, that man was undoubtedly 
Alexander Hamilton ; and it is not singular, that the elder 
should also have been almost a pattern to the younger states- 
man, in nearly every other matter pertaining to their political 
character and public services. A man's oratory, in fact, is an 
expression, and the best possible expression, of his character ; 
it is the man himself making a revelation of his o^vn inward 
being ; and it was never more thoroughly such a revelation, 
than m the example of the two patriots, whose memories are 
thus linked together. It is fortunate for the reader, and for all 
students of true eloquence, that Webster has happened to give 
the ideal of oratory as formed within him, at the period and in 
the manner before mentioned ; and it is equally fortimate, that 
this ideal happens, also, to be a perfect exposition of what Avas 
common to two statesmen, whose superiors have never risen up, 
and possibly may never rise up, among us : " True eloquence, 
indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from 
far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in 



HIS DESCRIPTION OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. 57 

vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, 
but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the 
subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expres- 
sion, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it, but they 
cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes at all, like the outbreak- 
ing of a fountain fi-om the earth, or the bursting forth of vol- 
canic fires with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces 
taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contri- 
vances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, 
and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, 
hang on the decision of the hour ; then words have lost their 
power, and rhetoric is vain, and all the elaborate oratory is con- 
temptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, 
as m the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is elo- 
quent ; then self devotion is eloquent. The clear conception 
outrunning the deductions of logic, the high piu-pose, the firm 
resolve, the dauntless spirit speaking on the tongue, beaming 
from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole 
man onward — right onward to his object — this, tliis is elo- 
quence ! " 

At the end of the first two years, the young student went 
home to pass the time of the long vacation. Keeping with his 
books at night, and at all times when not otherwise demanded 
by liis fother, he went into the field by day, and entered into all 
the labors of the farm as if he had never left it for an hour. 
When at his studies, or engaged m any serious occupation of 
the mind, he was always himself serious, and would sit hour 
after hour, in the family circle, surrounded by all sorts of ope- 
rations, absorbed, swallowed up, lost in the author, or in the 
topics, he had m hand. The moment, however, that he had fin- 
ished his intellectual labor, or was called away by other duties 
from the employments of his mind, he was at once changed, 
transformed completely, into a perfect embodiment of sport. 
His health was good ; his intellect was sound and active ; his 



58 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

studies were giving delightful exercise to all his flxculties ; he 
was emerging, every day, from the life of a mere plough-boy, 
in an obscure portion of the country, into the great world of 
letters, which, covering the world, makes of it something like a 
universal brotherhood of kindred spirits. Though not yet a 
member of that brotherhood, he was a candidate for member- 
ship, and every step he took forward, which brought liim nearer 
to the final goal, gave him new animation, and increased the 
buoyancy of his ever-buoyant soul. Whenever his books were 
thrown aside, he seemed no longer the studious recluse, the 
thoughtful and brow-knitting scholar, but the jovial companion, 
overflowing with genuine wit, and equally ready to laugh at or 
to make a joke. It was his growing mirth, rather than the in- 
creasing acquisitions of his mind, that made him more and 
more the universal favorite of the field. He could then tell a 
good story ; and his powers of representing characters, of mim- 
icking, of taking oft' what was ludicrous, of dashing along with 
the lively and the gay, of making the hayfield ring with laugh- 
ter, or of raising sport that would set the long drawn table in 
a roar, marked him then, as they have marked liim through the 
soberest periods of his life. 

On a certain day, his father, who was about leaving home to 
be gone till night, gave directions to Ezekiel and Daniel to per- 
fonn a piece of work. After he was gone, the boys took it 
into their heads, not out of a spirit of disobedience, but with that 
discretion which they thought they were now about old enough 
to use, to defer the work enjoined upon them to another day. 
Still, they were not entirely certain that their decision would be 
approved, especially as it left them little or nothing at all to do. 
Ezekiel, as usual, was rather sober about it. Daniel was as 
lively as ever. At night, on his return, the father, seeing the 
work unperformed, spoke rather sharply to them : " Ezekiel 
what have you been doing all day 1 " " Nothing," said the 
culprit. " And what have i/ou been doing, Daniel 1 " " Help- 



GEKERAL SERIOUSNESS OF DISPOSITION. 59 

ing Zelce, sir,'''' said the rogue in a very solemn way. The re- 
ply of Ezekiel left the father not softened. Daniel's wit warmed 
him into a pleasant smile. That same wit has often gained 
other victories of more importance to the world. 

On another day, during the long vacation, Daniel was put to 
mowing, when he had a book about him that he was exceed- 
ingly anxious to peruse. The work was not very pressing, and 
Daniel knew it. He was, therefore, the. more at liberty to 
drop his scythe, now and then, and fall under a bush, or ijito 
the shadow of an elm, and read. He was perfectly aware, too, 
that his father, though anxious always to have every person do 
a good day's work, was never so easily satisfied with his boys 
for doing less than was expected of them, as when they neg- 
lected their labor for their books. On that day, certainly, 
Daniel was not doing much ; and he complained, whenever his 
father came to him, that the scythe was not properly hung. 
The father set it for him a number of times ; but all to no pur- 
pose, Daniel was still doing but little. At length, a little im- 
patient, the father came and inquired into the matter more mi- 
nutely. The answer still was, that the scythe was not well 
hung. " Hang it yourself, then," said the father, " and hang it 
to suit you." Taking the fuU advantage of these instructions, 
Daniel went to where the scythe was lying, picked it up leis- 
urely, brought it to the place where he had been sitting, and huug 
it up very carefully on a limb of the tree. " There, sir," said 
the laggard, " it now hangs just right." Li the mean time, the 
father had seen the book ; he accordingly received the witticism 
with another of his smiles ; and that was the end, to Daniel, of 
that day's work. 

. With all these pleasantries, however, the general tenor, the 
main current, of Daniel's life, at this period, was serious. He 
had undertaken a gi-eat matter. He had engaged in it with all 
his might. He understood its import, and meant to be thorough 
and complete. He read, studied, and conversed, with the one 

VOL. I. C* 



60 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

end in view, of disciplining liis faculties, of enlarging the amount 
and sphere of liis knowledge, of laying a broad and deep foun- 
dation for future use. His diligence, instead of abating, grew 
with his advancement day by day ; and that advancement had 
even now become such as to inspire all liis friends with the most 
exalted expectations of his after life. His growth in knowledge 
was particularly gratifying to Mr. Thompson and Dr. Wood, 
his early friends, whose patronage came to him as a tribute to 
the strength, originality, and promise of his mind. Colonel 
Webster, a sagacious man, could not fail to see the maturing 
greatness of his son. He began to behold the first fruits of his 
education ; and, on several occasions, mentioned the satisfaction 
that Daniel's success had given him, to his mother. That mo- 
ther, his first teacher, and a glorious woman, had seen it all, had 
enjoyed it all, had looked upon him with a mother's eye, and 
regarded him as her noblest jewel. She needed no one to tell 
her of the superiority of Daniel's mind, no one to assure her 
of his ultimate greatness and success, no one to display to her 
admiration the excellent qualities of his moral nature, his mag- 
nanimity, his disinterestedness, his kindness of heart, his great 
tenderness and benevolence of soul. All these she had discov- 
ered, had admired, had doted on in secret, had treasured up 
among her fondest recollections, from the earliest years of his 
infancy. It must be acknowledged, without doubt, that she was 
even proud of him ; but it may be lefl to other mothers, who 
have had similar fortune, to urge this against her as a fault. 

The moral sentiment of Daniel Webster, at tliis season of 
his life, was never more happily illustrated, perhaps, than by 
the interest he took m the education of his brother. Then in 
the full enjoyment of study, with the highest prospects rising . 
up before liim, which gave him the utmost exhileration of soul, 
he could not rest, he would not rest, he did not rest, till the 
same advantages were furnished to Ezekiel. This part of his 
histoiy is told by Professor Sanborn : " After a residence of 



HIS AFFECTION FOE HIS BROTHER. ' 61 

two years at college, he spent a vacation at home. He had 
tasted the sweets of hterature, and enjoyed the victories of in- 
tellectual effort. He loved the scholar's life. He felt keenly 
for the condition of his brother Ezekicl, who was destined to 
remain on the farm, and labor to lilt the mortgage from the old 
homestead, and furnish the means of his brother's support. 
Ezekiel was a fixrmer m spirit and m practice. He led his 
laborers in the field, as he afterwards led his class in Greek. 
Daniel knew and appreciated his superior intellectual endow- 
ments. He resolved that his brother should enjoy the same 
privileges with liimself. One night the two brothers retired to 
bed, but not to sleep. Tliey discoursed of their prospects. 
Daniel utterly refused to enjoy the fruit of his brother's labor 
any longer. They were united in sympathy and affection ; and 
they rifcist be united in their pursuits. But how could they 
leave their beloved parents, in age and solitude, with no pro- 
tector 1 Tliey talked and wept, and wept and talked, till dawn 
of day. They dared not broach the matter to their father. 
Finally, Daniel resolved to be the orator on the occasion. 
Judge Webster was then somewhat burdened with debts. 
He was advanced m age, and had set his heart upon having 
Ezekiel as his helper. The very thought of separation from 
both his sons was painful to liim. When the proposition 
was made, he felt as did the patriarch of old, when he exclaimed, 
' Joseph is not ; and will ye also take Benjamin away 1 ' A 
family council was called. Tlie mother's opinion was asked. 
She was a strong minded woman. She was not blind to the 
superior endowments of her sons. With all a mother's par- 
tiality, however, she did not over-estimate their powers. She 
decided the matter at once : ' I have lived l<jng in the world, 
and liave been happy in my children. If Daniel and Ezekiel 
will promise to take care of me m my old age, I will consent 
to the sale of all our property at once, and they may enjoy the 
benefit of that which remains after our debts ai'e paid,' This 



62 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

■was a moment of intense interest to all the parties. Parents 
and children all mingled their tears together, and sobbed aloud, 
at the thought of separation. The fdther yielded to the en- 
treaties of his sons and tlie advice of his wife. Daniel returned 
to college ; and Ezekiel took his little bundle in his hand, and 
sought on foot the scene of his preparatory studies, hi one 
year, he joined liis younger brother in college." 

When it is said of a man, in order to indicate the character 
and amount of his mental discipline, that he is a graduate of 
college, no reliable idea is given. Nothing more indefinite 
could be said. The colleges of one country differ exceedingly, 
in every way, from the colleges of another. The institutions 
of a single country, at one period of its history, differ as greatly 
from the same institutions at another period. The schools of 
the same nation, and of the same age, are often scarce^ com- 
parable with each other. And these facts must not be forgot> 
ten in estimating the native abilities and the intellectual train- 
ing of Daniel Webster. He studied four years in a university. 
This is certain. It is certain that he entered the institution re- 
spectably prepared. It is equally certam that he maintained a 
good rank as a member of the college classes. The rumor, so 
current once, and so readily caught up by injudicious gossip, 
that he stood low at school as a student, is entirely without 
foundation. As things then were, as education was then under- 
stood, he was decidedly above the average standing, and in 
many respects without a rival. He was as much a lion, while 
a school-boy among his associates, as he ever was in congress, 
at the bar, or on the platform, among the greatest men of the 
nation, and of other nations. As the discipline he received was 
not such as is now given at our universities, it will be pertinent 
to state farther, for the benefit of those who vdll wish to see 
the whole meaning and force of his great example, the course 
of studies he pursued till he removed from college. 

Having, during his first two years, completed the classics, as 



HIS CHOICE OF STUDIES. 63 

they were then read, together -with pure mathematics, the thu-d 
year was devoted to natural philosophy, to moral philosophy, 
and to rhetoric. Natural philosophy was then, what it is now, 
an appliaition of the higher mathematics to natural science. In. 
this department, while he was prepared to be delighted, and was 
delighted, with the views of nature thus presented to him, he 
failed to realize as much pleasure and profit from it, as he would 
have realized, had he not chosen not to be very deeply inter- 
ested in mathematics. With this disadvantage, nevertheless, he 
was about equal to the best of his competitors, but was estimar 
ted lower than he should have been, because he permitted such 
a difference to exist between his marked ability and his recita- 
tions. A person acknowledged to be remarkable, must always 
be remarkable in every thing he does, or he fails to receive the 
credit positively belonging to his performances. Milo must 
always cany the ox, whether he wished to carry him or not, or 
the superficial were ready to believe, that he could not bear a 
heavier burden than common people. 

hi moral philosophy, and in rhetoric, however, no such con- 
siderations need be offered, hi both these studies, Daniel Web- 
ster had no equal m the university among the students. It is 
doubtful whether he had his superior, in all respects, among the 
teachers. His style as a writer and speaker, it is true, was then 
for from being what it became afterwai'ds ; and it might have 
been decidedly inferior, in point of accuracy and finish, to that 
of the weakest professor. But, taking his mind, his thought, 
his logic, his energy and power into the account ; taking into 
consideration the earnest spirit, the lofty tone, the depth and 
breadth, of his range and reach of thought ; and it is nearly 
certain, if not quite certain, from what we now possess of the 
efforts of that day, that no man in college, student or professor, 
was entirely his equal. His conceptions, it is confessed, were 
frequently too glaringly bold for good taste, but they were not 
bald. They were full of meaning, of sense, of powez'ful thought. 



64 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

His diction, too, was darii^, bombastic, sometimes turgid to 
the last degree of faiUt ; but it was the diction, as every one 
could see, and as every one could see with all needful apology, 
of a masterly mind, crowded with ideas too big for such utter- 
ance as he had then acviu'rcd. 

On the 4th of July, 1800, when he was in his seventeenth 
year, and a junior in college, he delivered an oration to the cit- 
izens and students, at their joint request. It is still extant ; and 
though, in comparison w^ith the immortal efforts of mature life, it 
bears no great resemblance to them, an inquirer into his genius 
and character might rather lose almost any one of Iiis master-pie- 
ces, than to fail of reading and studying this. The master-pieces 
are numerous ; they show what a great man is ; but the first 
performance can be only one ; and that one exhibits clearly the 
starting-point, the origin, the germ, of all that was to come. Li 
the later efforts, we see what the man is by simple induction, 
by arguments a posteriori, by a very common and hackneyed 
process, hi the fu'st attempt, where nature speaks, before art 
has taken the control of nature, when the inner soul utters it- 
self unconsciously, we look forward to the future being, to his 
commg greatness, by the more beautiful method a priori, as a 
man traces a stream from its fountain-head till it reaches the 
great ocean, or as a seer, a prophet, looks down the ti'ack of 
time, and beholds the grandest developments from the most 
inconsiderable of causes. 

No one, familiar with Daniel Webster's style, will fail to see, 
in every part of his virgin effort, much of the man in tlie style 
and manner of tlie boy. Let the reader, who has heard him 
speak for the last ten or fifteen years, call up to his imagination 
a picture of the mature orator, as he was whenever he saw and 
heard him, and with that in view draw another picture, as he 
peruses the exordium of that juvenile address : 

" Countrymen, brethren and fathers: We are now assem- 
bled to celebrate an anniversary, ever to be held ui dear remero. 



HIS FIRST ORATION". G5 

brance by the sous of freedom. Nothing less than the birth 
of a nation, nothing less than the emancipation of three millions 
of people from the degrading chains of foreign dominion, is the 
event we commemorate. 

" Twenty-four years have this day elapsed, since these United 
States first raised the standard of Liberty, and echoed the shouts 
of hidependence. 

" Those of you, who were then reaping the iron harvest of 
the martial field, whose bosoms then palpitated for the honor 
of America, will, at this time, experience a renewal of all that 
fervent patriotism, of all those mdescribable emotions, which 
then agitated your breasts. As for us, who were either then 
unborn, or not far enough advanced beyond the tlu'eshold of 
existence, to engage in the grand conflict for Liberty, we now 
most cordially unite with you to greet the return of this joyous 
anniversary, to welcome the return of the day that gave us 
Freedom, and to hail the rising glories of our country ! " 

• Tliat, every reader will say, in spite of its grandiloquence, in 
spite of one or two inaccuracies in the use of language, such as 
the man was never guilty of, is a splendid exordium for a boy 
of sixteen years. 

The statement of the subject, as in all his future speeches, is 
brief, clear and simple : " On occasions like this, you have 
hitherto been address.ed, fi:-om the stage " — he means the plat- 
form — " on the nature, the origin, the expediency of civil go- 
vernment." He must have been a close observer to have ar- 
rived, at so early an age, at an induction so general and truthful. 
" The field of political speculation has here been explored by 
persons possessing talents to which the speaker of the day can 
have no pretensions. Declining tlierefore, a dissertation on the 
principles of civil polity" — which he pretty clearly understood, 
but wliich he was too diffident to offer as the topic of a dis- 
course — " you will indulge me m slightly sketching those events, 



66 WEBSTER AND IIIS MASTER-PIECES. 

which have originated, nurtured and raised to its present grand- 
eur this new empire." 

The orator now proceeds directly to his argument, in which 
he gives a succinct history of the country, from its settlement 
to the close of the I'evolutionary war. The diction, in this 
part of the performance, by no means equals that of the exor- 
dium : " As no nation on the globe can rival us in the rapidity 
of our growth, since the conclusion of the revolutionary war, 
so none, perhaps, ever endured greater hardships and distresses, 
than the people of this country previous to that period. 

" We behold a feeble band of colonists engaged in the ar- 
duous undertaking of a new settlement in the wilds of North 
America. Their civil liberty being mutilated, and the enjoy- 
ment of their religious sentiments denied them, in the land that 
gave them birth, they fled their country, they braved the dan- 
gers of the then almost unnavigated ocean, and sought on the 
other side of the globe, an asylum from the iron grasp of tyr- 
anny and the more intolerable scourge of ecclesiastical perse- 
cution. 

" But gloomy, indeed, was the prospect when arrived on this 
side of the Atlantic. 

" Scattered in detachments along a coast immensely exten- 
sive, at a distance of more than three thousand miles from their 
friends on the eastern continent, they were exposed to all those 
evils, and encountered or experienced all those difHculties, to 
which human nature seemed liable. Destitute of convenient 
habitations, the inclemencies of the seasons harrassed them, the 
midnight beasts of prey prowled terribly around them, and the 
more portentous yell of savage fury incessantly assailed them. 
But the same undiminished confidence in Almighty God, which 
prompted the first settlers of this country to forsake the un- 
friendly climes of Europe, still supported them under all their 
calamities, and inspired them with fortitude almost divine. 
Having a glorious issue to their labors now in prospect, they 



FIRST ORATION CONTINUED. 67 

cheerfully endured the rigors of the climate, pursued the sav- 
age beast to his remotest haunt, and stood, undismayed, in the 
dismal hour of hidian battle. 

" Scarcely were the infiint settlements freed from those dan- 
gers, -which at first environed them, ere the clashing interests of 
France and Britain involved them anew in war. The colonists 
were now destined to combat with well appointed, well disciplmed 
troops from Europe ; and the horrors of the tomahawk and 
the scalping knife were again renewed. But these frowns of 
fortune, distressing as they were, had been met without a sigh, 
and endured without a gi-aan, had not Great Britain presump- 
tuously arrogated to herself the glory of victories acliieved by 
American militia. Louisburg must be taken, Canada attacked, 
and a frontier of more than one thousand miles defended by 
mitutored yeomanry, while the honor of every conquest must 
be ascribed to an English army. 

" But while Great Britain was thus tyranically stripping her 
colonies of their well-earned laurels, and triumphantly weaving 
them into the stupendous wreath of her own martial glories, 
she was unwittingly teaching them to value themselves, and 
effectually to resist, on a future day, her unjust encroachments. 

" The pitiful tale of taxation now commenced — the unhappy 
quarrel, which resulted in the dismemberment of the British 
Empire, has here its origin. 

" England, now ti'iumphant over the united powers of France 
and Spain, is determined to reduce to the condition of slaves 
her American subjects. 

" We might now display the legislatures of the several States, 
together with the general congress, petitioning, praying, remon- 
strating ; and, like dutiful subjects, humbly laying their griev- 
ances before the throne. On the other liand, we could exhibit 
a British parliament, assiduously devising means to subjugate 
America, disdaining our petitions, trampling on our rights, and 
menacingly telling us, in language not to be misunderstood, 

VOL. I. 5 



68 AVEBSTER AND IIIS MASTER-PIECES. 

'■ye shall he slaves' We could mention the haughty, tyranni- 
cal, perfidious Gage, at the head of a standing army ; we could 
show our brethren attacked and slaughtered at Lexington ; our 
property plundered and destroyed at Concord ! Eecollections 
can still pain us, with the spiral flames of burning Qiarlestown, 
the agonizing groans of aged parents, the shrieks of widows, 
orphans and infants ! 

" Lidelibly impressed on our memories, still lives the dis- 
mal scene of Bunker's awful mount, the grand theatre of New 
England bravery, where slaughter stalked grimly triumphant ; 
where relentless Britain saw her soldiers, the unhappy instru- 
ments of despotism, fallen in heaps, beneath the nervous arm 
of injured freemen ! 

" There the great Warren fought, and there, alas ! he fell ! 
Valuuig life only as it enabled him to serve his country, he 
freely resigned himself, a willing martyr in the cause of Lib- 
erty, and now lies encircled in the arms of glory : 

" ' Peace to the patriot's shade — let no rude blast 
Disturb the willow that nods o'er his tomb ; 
Let orphan tears bedew his sacred urn, 
And fame's loud truuip proclaim the hero's name, 
Far as the circuit of the spheres extends ! ' 

" But, haughty Albion, thy reign shall soon be over. Thou 
shalt triumph no longer ; thine empire already reels and tot- 
ters ; thy laurel even now begins to wither and thy flm:ie de- 
cay. Thou hast, at length, roused the indignation of an insulted 
people ; thine oppressions they deem no longer tolerable, 

" The 4th day of July, 1776, has now arrived, and America, 
manfully " — the young orator does not now regard America 
personified a female — " manfulhj springing from the torturing 
flings of the British lion, now rises majestic in the pride oi her 
sovereignty" — now he does — " and bids her Eagle elevate his 
wings ! 

" The solemn Declaration of hidependence is now pronounced, 



ORATION CONTINUED. 69 

amidst crowds of admiring citizens, by the supreme council of 
the nation, and received with the unbounded plaudits of a grate- 
ful people ! That was the hour when heroism was proved — 
when the souls of men were tried ! 

" It was then, ye venerable patriots " — he here addresses the 
revolutionary soldiers present — " it was then you lifted the in- 
dignant arm, and unitedly swore to be free ! Despising such 
toys as subjugated empires, you then knew no middle fortune 
between liberty and death ! 

" Firmly relying on the protection of Heaven, un warped in the 
resolution you had taken, you then, undaunted, met, engaged, 
defeated the gigantic power of Britain, and rose triumphant 
over the aggressions of your enemies ! 

" Trenton, Princeton, Bennington and Saratoga were the suc- 
cessive theatres of your victories, and the utmost bounds of 
creation are the limits of your fame ! The sacred fire of free- 
dom, then enkindled in your breasts, shall be perpetuated 
through the long descent of future ages, and burn, with undi- 
minished fervor, in the bosom of millions yet unborn ! 

" Finally, to close the sanguinary conflict, to grant America 
the blessings of an honorable peace, and clothe her heroes with 
laurels, Comwallis, at whose feet the kings and princes of Asia 
nave since thrown their diadems, was compelled to submit to 
the sword of Washington 1 " 

The faults of this portion of the address, in point of style, 
are certainly very numerous ; but the most critical reader will 
see the most clearly its intrinsic excellencies. The fiults are 
not those of a weak mind, but of a mind of powerful and in- 
dependent thought. The thoughts, in fact, are, or rather were 
then, quite original and apposite to the occasion ; but the ex- 
pression, like that of all young writers, is rendered less forcible 
Dya boyish attempt at too great strength. 

The second division of the discourse, which introduces the 
subject of our national polity, a topic, which, in the iutroduc- 



70 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

tion, the author had modestly declined, is characterized by a 
more sober style of thinking and a less bombastic diction, 
though the general tenor of it is still too dazzling and senti- 
mental : " The grciit drama is now completed ; our Indepen- 
dence is now acknowledged ; and the hopes of our enemies are 
blasted forever, Columbia is now seated in the Forum of na- 
tions ; and the empires of the world are amazed at the bright 
effiilgence of her glory. 

" Thus, friends and citizens, did the kind hand of overruling 
Providence conduct us, through toils, fatigues and dangers, to 
Independence and Peace. If piety be the rational exercise of 
the human soul, if religion be not a chimera, and if the vestiges 
of heavenly assistance are clearly traced in those events which 
mark the annals of our Nation, it becomes us, on this day, in 
consideration of the great things which have been done for us, 
to render the tribute of unfeigned thanks to that God, who su- 
perintends the universe, and holds aloft the scale that weighs 
the destinies of nations. 

" The conclusion of the Revolutionary war did not accom- 
plish [he means, constitute, or com2:)lete\ the entire achievements 
of our countrymen. Their military character was then, indeed, 
sufficiently established ; but the time was coming which should 
show their political sagacity — their ability to govern them- 
selves. 

" No sooner was peace restored with England (the first grand 
article of which was the acknowedgment of our Independence) 
than the old system of confederation, dictated, at first, by ne- 
cessity, and adopted for the purposes of the moment, was found 
inadequate to the government of an extensive empire. Under 
a full conviction of this, we then saw the people of these states 
engaged in a transaction wliich is undoubtedly the gi'eatest ap- 
proximation towards human perfection the pohtical world ever 
■witnessed, and which, perhaps, will forever stand in the history 
of manldnd without a parallel. A great Republic, composed 



ORATION CONTINUED. 71 

of different states, whose interests in all respects could not be 
perfectly compatible, then came deliberately forward, discarded 
one system of government and adopted another, without the 
loss of one man's blood. 

" There is not a single government now existing in Europe, 
which is not based in usurpation, and established, if established 
at all, by the sacrifice of thousands. But, in the adoption of 
our present system of jurisprudence, we see the powers neces- 
saiy for government voluntarily flowing from the people, their 
only proper origin, and directed to the public good, theu' only 
proper object. 

" With peculiar propriety, we may now felicitate ourselves 
on that happy form of mixed governinent under which we live. 
The advantages resulting to the citizens of the Union are utterly 
incalculable ; and the day when it was received by a majority 
of the States shall stand on the catalogue of American anniver 
saries second to none but the birth-day of Independence. 

" In consequence of the adoption of our present system of 
government, and the virtuous manner in which it has been ad- 
ministered by a Washington and an Adams, we are this day 
in the enjoyment of peace, while war devastates Europe. We 
can now sit down beneath the shadow of the olive, while her 
cities blaze, her streams run purple with blood, and her fields 
glitter with a forest of bayonets. The citizens of America can 
tliis day throng the temples of freedom, and renew their oaths 
of fealty to independence, while Holland, our once sister Re- 
public, is erased from the catalogue of nations ; while Venice is 
destroyed, Italy ravaged, and Switzerland — the once happy, the 
once united, the once flourishing Switzerland — lies bleeding at 
every pore ! 

"No ambitious foe dares now invade our country. No 
standing army now endangers our liberty. Our Commerce, 
though subject in some degree to the depredations of the bel- 
ligerent powers, is extended fi'om pole to pole ; our Navy, 



72 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

though just emerging from non-existence, shall soon vouch for 
the safety of our merchantmen, and bear the thunder of free- 
dom around the ball. Fair Science, too, holds her gentle em- 
pire amongst us, and almost innumerable altars are raised to 
her divinity, from Brunswick to Florida. Yale, Providence, 
and Harvard, now grace our land ; and Dartmouth, towering 
majestic above the gi'oves which encircle her, now inscribes her 
glory on the registers of fame. Oxford and Cambridge, those 
oriental stars of literature, shall now be outshone by the bright 
sun of American science, which displays his broad circumfer- 
ence in uneclipsed radiance ! " 

Such is the second division of this interesting speech, and the 
reader will no doubt say, or be ready to admit, that, after so 
many very sober and sensible paragraphs, so grandiloquent and 
turgid a termination is an unwished-for blemish. 

The orator now proceeds to pay a passing tribute, if not more 
than a passing tribute, perhaps a premeditated debt" of gratitude, 
to the heroes of the revolution : " Pleasing, indeed, were it 
here to dilate on the future gi-andeur of America ; but we for- 
bear, and pause for a moment to drop the tear of affection over 
the graves of our departed warriors. Their names should be 
mentioned on every anniversary of hidependence, that the youth 
of each successive generation may learn not to value life, when 
held in competition with their country's safety. 

" Wooster, Montgomery, and Mercer fell bravely in battle, 
and their ashes are now entombed on the fields that witnessed 
their valor. Let their exertions in our country's cause be re- 
membered, while liberty has an advocate, and gratitude has a 
place in the human heart. 

" Greene, the immortal hero of the Carol inas, has since gone 
down to the grave, loaded with honors, and high in the estima- 
tion of his countrymen. The courageous Putnam has long 
etept with his fathers, and Sullivan and Cilley, New Hamp- 



ORATIOJT CONTINUED. 73 

shire's veteran sons, are no more remembered among the 
living. 

" With hearts penetrated by unutterable grief, we are at 
length constrained to ask, where is our Washington 1 where the 
hero who led us to victory ? where the man who gave us fi-ee- 
dom 1 where is he, who headed our feeble army, when destruc- 
tion threatened us, who came upon our enemies like the storms 
of winter, and scattered them like leaves before the Borean 
blast? Where, O! my country! is thy jjolitical savior? 
Where, O ! humanity ! thy favorite son 1 

"The solemnity of this assembly, the lamentations of the 
American people, will answer, 'Alas ! he is now no more — the 
mighty is fallen ! ' 

" Yes, Americans, Washington is gone ! lie is now con- 
signed to dust, and sleeps in 'dull, cold marble!' 

" The man who never felt a wound but when it pierced his 
country — he who never groaned but when fi-eedom bled — is 
now forever silent ! 

" Wrapped in the shroud of death, the dark dominions of the 
grave long since received him, and he rests in undisturbed re- 
pose ! Vain were the attempt to express our loss — vain the 
attempt to describe the feelings of our souls 1 Though months 
have rolled away, since his spirit left this terrestrial orb, and 
sought the shining worlds on high, yet the sad event is still re- 
membered with increased sorrow. The hoary-headed patriot 
of '76 still tells the mournful story to the listening infant, till the 
loss of his country touches his heart, and patriotism fires his 
breast. The aged matron still laments the loss of the man, 
beneath whose banners her husband has fought, or her son has 
fiillen. At the name of Washington, the sympathetic tear still 
glistens in the eye of every youthful hero. Nor does the ten- 
der sigh yet cease to heave the fair bosom of Columbia's 
daughters : 



74 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

'Farewell, O Washington, a long farewell I 
Thy country's tears embalm thy memory ; 
Thy virtues challenge immortality. 
Impressed on grateful hearts, thy name shall live, 
Till dissolution's deluge drown the world.' " 

Having paid his regards to the dead, he now turns his atten- 
tion to the living : " Although we must feel the keenest sor- 
row, at the demise of our Washington, yet we console our- 
selves with the reflection, that his virtuous compatriot, his 
worthy successor, the firm, the wise, the inflexible Adams, still 
svirvives. Elevated by the voice of his country to the supreme 
executive magistracy, he constantly adheres to her essential in- 
terests, and with steady hand 'draws the disguising vail fi-om 
the intrigues of foreign enemies, and the plots of domestic 
foes. 

" Having the honor of America always in view, never fear 
ing, when wisdom dictates, to stem the impetuous torrent of 
popular resentment, he staiids amid the fluctuations of party and 
the explosions of faction, unmoved as Atlas, 



' While storms and tempests thunder on its brow, 
And oceans break their billows at his feet.' " 



The external i-elations of the United States, and the " foreisn 
policy" of the orator, are next set off* with uncommon spirit 
" Yet all the vigilance of our Executive, and all the wisdom of 
our Congress, have not been sufficient to prevent the country 
from bemg, in some degree, agitated by the convulsions of 
Europe. But why shall every quarrel on the other side of the 
Atlantic interest us in its issue ? Why shall the rise or de- 
pression of every party there produce here a corresponding vi- 
bration "? Was this continent designed as a mere satellite to 
the other] Has not nature here wrought dl her operations on 
her broadest scale 1 Where are the Mississippis and the Am- 
azons, the Alleghanies and the Andes of Europe, Asia and 



ORATION CONTINUED. 75 

Afi'ica 1 The natural superiority of America clearly indicates 
that it was designed to be inhabited by a nobler race of men, 
possessing a superior form of government, superior patriotism, 
superior talents, and superior virtues. 

" Let the nations of the East vainly waste their strength in 
destroying each other. Let them aspire at conquest, and con- 
tend for dominion, till their continent is drenched in blood. 
But let none, however elated by victory, however proud of 
triumph, ever presume to intrude on the neutral position as- 
sumed by our country." 

The speaker, though at that time not an enemy to England, 
allowed liimself to fall into the popular style of remark in his 
allusion to that country ; but for France, it seems, then in the 
midst of her revolution, he had no affection. Both sides of the 
Republic, in fiict, the Directory and the " Pilgrim of Egypt," 
were alike worthy of his rebuke : " Britain, twice humbled for 
her aggressions, has at length been taught to respect us. But 
France, once our ally, has dared to insult us ! She has viola- 
ted her treaty obligations — she has depredated our commerce 
— she has abused our government, and riveted the chains of 
bondage on our unhappy fellow-citizens ! Not content with 
ravaging and depopulating the fairest countries of Europe ; not 
yet satiated with the contortions of expiring republics, the 
convulsive agonies of sul)jugated nations, and the groans of her 
own slaughtered citizens — she has spouted her fury across the 
Atlantic, and the stars and stripes of the United States have 
almost been attacked in our harbors! When we have de- 
manded reparation, she has told us, 'Give us your money and 
we will give you peace.' JMighty nation ! Magnanimous re- 
public ! Let her fil her coffers from those towns and cities 
which she has plundered, and grant peace, if she can, to the 
shades of those millions whose death she has caused. 

" But Columbia stoops not to tyrants ; her spirit will never 
crhige to France ; neither a supercilious, five-headed Directory, 

VOL. I. D 



76 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

nor the Pilgrim of Egypt, will ever dictate terms to sovereign 
America. The thunder of our cannon shall insure the perform- 
ance of our treaties, and fulminate destruction on Frenchmen, 
till the ocean is crimsoned with blood, and gorged with 
pirates ! " 

The peroration of a discourse, accordmg to the rhetoricians, 
should at least never be feeble, but respectably able and even 
dignified, if not strong. The college orator seemed to know 
the virtue of this rule. Taking the popular side of the French 
question, as it then stood, he closes his performance with con- 
siderable emphasis of style, and doubtless at the top and bot- 
tom of his then splendid voice : " It becomes us, on whom the 
defence of our country will ere long devolve, this day most 
seriously to reflect on the duties mcumbent upon us. Our an- 
cestors bravely snatched expiring liberty fi-om the grasp of 
Britain, whose touch is poison. Shall we now consign it to 
France, whose embrace is death ? We have seen our Fathers, 
in the days of our country's trouble, assume the rough habili- 
ments of war, and seek the hostile field. Too full of sorrow 
to speak, we have seen them wave a last farewell to a discon- 
solate, a woe-stung family. We have seen them return, worn 
down with fatigue, and scarred with wounds ; or we have seen 
them, perhaps, no more. For us they fought — for us they bled 
— for us they conquered. Shall we, their descendants, now 
basely disgrace our lineage, and pusillanimously disclaim the 
legacy bequeathed to us ? Shall we pronounce the sad vale, 
diction to freedom and immortal liberty on the altars our 
fathers have raised to her ? No ! The response of the nation 
is, ' No ! ' Let it be registered in the archives of Heaven. 
Ere the religion we profess, and the privileges we enjoy, are 
sacrificed at the shrine of despots and demagogues — let the 
sons of Europe be vassals ; let her hosts of nations be a vast 
congregation of slaves ; but let us, who are this day free, whose 
hearts are yet unappalled, and whose right arms are yet nerved 



LESSONS FOR YOUNG MEN. 77 

for war, assemble before the hallowed temple of American 
freedom, and swear, to the God of oiu- fathers, to preserve it 
secure, or die at its portal ! " 

Such, then, is the first oration of Daniel Webster ; and it 
will furnish a lesson of great value to every young man, who 
will take the pains to study it carefully, and compare it, as to 
style and thought, with the orator's most able and celebrated 
efforts. To young men, whose opinion of their o^vn abilities is 
raised too high, it will clearly show, that even Webster, at their 
age, could write bombast and empty declamation ; and that 
they, unless more than his equal, in the native endowments of 
their minds, are probably the authors, when they write what 
they and their admirers most admire, of still more empty dec- 
lamation, and a yet more sonorous bombast. To young men, 
who have a modest opinion of their o\ni talents, and who are 
disposed to be discouraged by the faults they witness in them- 
selves, this oration will show, that the greatest orator of Amer- 
ica, and the greatest mind of the rge, could indite puerilities 
when himself a boy. 

Tliis first effort, however, is not to be disparaged too flir. 
Without any dis^mragement, but lefl without remarlc to make 
its own impression, it might induce a superficial reader to sup- 
pose, that the talents of the college junior were overrated by 
his early friends, or that his mature productions have reflected 
an unreal splendor upon the promise of his youth. We are 
inclined, indeed, to glorify every peculiarity, if not every act, 
of the unripe youth, if they are subsequently the peculiari- 
ties and customary acts of the great and celebrated man. Still, 
after viewing the matter on both sides, it must be acknowl- 
edged, that, while the diction of this performance is exceedingly 
faulty, its faults ai-e those of a very vigorous mind ; and that 
the strength of the thoughts, regarded individually, and their 
comprehensiveness taken iis a whole, are clearly the attributes 
of a person, whose life was not to be measured by its years. 



78 WEBSTKR AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

If the philosophical reader, who wishes to study the character 
of the man in the characteristics of the boy, will trace out the 
thought of the speech, and make a sketch of its topics, he will 
see many proofs, that the elements of the great orator existed 
fi'om the first. He will see that the general plan of the oration 
is very good, and even skillful ; that the course of the argu- 
ment is natural in itself and well managed ; that the allusions 
to history, as well as those made to passing events, mdicate a 
wide-reaching mind ; that that mind, indeed, was not customa- 
rily occupied with the trivial concerns immediately about it, 
but going out, even then, to think upon, to study, to compre- 
hend, the world. If Daniel Webster, at any time within the 
last twenty years, ever saw this juvenile effort, it must have 
made him smile ; for in his present style, the style of his best 
days, every weakness in his early composition has become a 
power, and in the place of nearly every blemish he has left a 
grace. 

During his fourth year in college, he studied Intellectual Phi- 
losophy, Moi^al Philosophy, and the Law of Nations. These 
studies made a deep and lasting impression on his mind. They 
suited his taste ; and his masterly reason and penetration were 
equal to their utmost demands. What an interesting specta- 
cle, to witness even in imagination Daniel Webster sounding 
the depths and measuring the heights and breadths of the hu- 
man mind by entering into and studying his own ! Was there 
ever a mind more worthy of being made the example, the par- 
agon, of the general mind of man ? W^as there ever a man 
better able to fathom, and survey, and comprehend whatever 
is comprehended in the mind ] Plato and Aristotle devoted 
theii" lives to this science of sciences ; and their researches have 
ever since been, to all nations, the groundwork of what is known 
in this department of knowledge ; but neither Ai-istotle, with 
his subtle logic, nor Plato, of sublime and universal genius, was 
better qualified by nature to go down into the lowest depths of 



STILL STUDIES ORATORY. 79 

this incomparably profound and important study, and discover 
in it everything that can be discovered, understood, or known. 
We have not the proof, however, that young Webster under- 
took the study with any zeal that could promise to make a phi- 
losopher of the liighest grade. Long before he came to it, he 
had marked out a course of life, which called him to other 
studies more closely related to the profession of his choice. It 
was for this reason, that, while he was quite equal, if not more 
than equal, in metaphysical pursuits, to any student ever con- 
nected with Ills college, his preeminence was altogether more 
decided in the department of natural and international law. 
Here, as m oratory, he had no competitor. By universal con- 
cession, he was solitary and alone. No class-mate pretended 
to be his equal. Plastering the elements of moral science suf 
ficiently to lay a broad foundation for this broadest and most 
beautiful of the legal studies, and acquiring enough of the philos- 
ophy of mmd to teach him how to build, he read the Law of 
Nature and of Nations with all possible diligence, with a con- 
centration of all his faculties, and reared a superstructure such 
as had never, in that institution, been reared before. Lidced, 
it is questionable whether a mere student in college, in this 
country or in any other, was ever more thoroughly read in this 
science, or understood its principles so well. 

His chief study, nevcrthless, was still oratory ; and to this 
end he read history, poetry, and general literature with increas- 
ing appetite and success. He was constantly grasping after 
and trying to understi^nd the great practical questions of the 
day. He made himself thoroughly acquainted with everything 
pertaining to his country's annals, from the first landing at 
Jamestown and Plymouth to the Revolution, and from the 
Revolution to his own time. He looked with almost a man's 
mind upon the external relations of the country, and compre- 
hended the bearings of other governments upon it, and saw what 
its own policy, as dictated by its history and position, ought to 



80 WEBSTEK A^"> HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

be. He studied other countries, their origin and progress, 
their relative position in the family of nations, their domestic 
policies and external views, their manners, their customs, and 
their laws. Not, indeed, that he pursued and mastered these 
subjects as he did in after life ; but he began to look in those 
directions, and to keep his mind upon such topics, as those to 
which he was most inclined ; and his knowledge, as well as liis 
judgment, in all subjects of this natiu-e, was far above what 
could have been expected of a youth but a few months 
beyond his eighteenth year. 

The oration, to which some attention has been given, had 
raised him as a speaker incomparably above the level of his 
class-mates ; and now, in his senior year, he was called upon, 
by the unanimous voice of his class, and by the general desire 
of the college, to come before the public in another perform- 
ance decidedly more difficult of success. A senior, who had 
been a flivorite in the institution for some time, had died ; a 
very deep and general sensation had been produced ; and an 
orator was demanded, who, while he should speak of the deceased 
as a brother of his own band, should also have the ability, not 
likely to be possessed by a college student, to rise to a level 
of the feeling caused by a sudden and lamented death. On 
any other occasion, an intelligent and generous audience are al- 
ways prepared to make every allowance for those extrava- 
gances of style, which seem to be the common characteristic 
of all youthful speakers ; but death, and particularly the death 
of a promising young man, just in the primrose path of hope, 
is too serious a thing to admit of being treated m a very faulty 
manner. It is the daily habit of students to write exercises 
that are exercises simply ; they write unreal declamations on 
unreal subjects, with a settled consciousness, that their hearers 
will regard them barely as juvenile imitations of realities ; and 
they are apt to form their style of writing, and of speaking, 
after an ideal, imaginative, unreal standard. Here, however, 



DEATH OF A CLASSMATE. 81 

was a real event, an event of real sorrow, wliicli had taken hold 
of the hearts of all interested. No pretension, no show, no im- 
itation, wUl now answer. No school-boy declamation will meet 
the occasion. What is to be said must be said in earnest, from 
the heart, in a natural, trutliful, real manner. Who, then, of 
aU the students of that college, is qualified to stand up before 
a critical audience, sensitive by education, and saddened by so 
sudden and so positive an affliction ? On whom was every eye 
to turn as the person most fit, perhaps as the only person fit, 
for the difficult and melancholy duty 1 There can be but one 
answer. The choice must fall, as it did fall, on Daniel Web- 
ster ; and, accorduig to the traditions still existuig, the eulogy 
pronounced by hun, at tliis time, was far beyond the expecta- 
tions of those, who had heard him fi-equently on other subjects. 
He seemed to have completely tlu'own ofl' the boy and put on 
the man. He entered, with all his soul, into the reality of the 
general sorrow. No ambitious soaring, no reachmg after far- 
fetched thoughts, no extravagance of expression, none of Ms 
ordinary grandiloquence, appeared to have been left upon him, 
or about him. With the simplicity of real feeling, and with 
the soberness and pathos of actual life, he proceeded directly to 
his mournful task, and spoke with the fervor and eloquence of 
a master. His success was unbounded. During the delivery, 
the fall of a pin could have been heard at any moment ; a 
dense audience were carried entirely away and kept spell- 
bound by the magic of his voice and manner ; and when he sat 
down, he left a thousand people weeping real tears over a 
heart-felt sorrow. It is reported, that there was not a dry eye 
in all the vast congregation, which the event and the fame 
of the orator had brought together. It is also said, on good 
authority, that, for years after he left college, parts of this 
eulogy were frequently spoken on the stage for declamation, 
and seldom without drawing tears. 

A few months more, and the time arrived, the period of the 



82 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

greatest interest and moment, when the student was to leave 
the classic halls of his college, and tiy his fortunes in the world. 
Twenty-eight young men, who had studied and recited with 
him daily for four years, were to go out with him. It is natu- 
ral that the reader should Avish to know who those twenty-eight 
young men were, as, by looking at the list, it may be seen 
how nearly the most distinguished member of the class was 
approached, in after life, by any other of the number. The 
hst is, of course, still preserved on the books of the institution ; 
and it is here presented as it has been given by the college to 
the public : " Alpheus Baker, James Hemy Bingham, Lem- 
uel Bliss, Daniel Campbell, John Dutton, William Fan^ar, 
Habyah Weld Fuller, Charles Gilbert, Elisha HotcWviss, Ab- 
ner Howe, Ebenezer Jones, David Jewett, Joseph Kimball, 
Sanford Kingsbury, Aaron Loveland, Simeon Lyman, Thomas 
Abbott IMerrill, Josiah Noyes, John Nye, Daniel Parker, Na- 
thaniel Shattuck, Elisha Smith, William Coit Smith, Asahel 
Stone, Matthew Taylor, Caleb Jewett Temiey, Samuel Upham, 
and Jabez B. Whitaker. 

These were his class-mates. All these pursued the same 
studies, under the same teachers, in the same college. Aroimd 
each of them, and all of them, were the hopes of parents and 
professors ; each and all of them engaged an interest, a feeling, 
that always accompanies young men at school, and goes out 
predicting their futiu'e eminence before they have left the walls 
of the institution ; each and all of them gave to their friends, 
and to those who knew them at home, different degrees of 
hope, but in every case sufficient to make them prominent in 
the places where their parents and friends resided. But, with 
one or two exceptions, which of their names, would have been 
known at this day, had they not been called out by the unequaled 
greatness, by the unbounded celebrity, by the universal fame of 
him, who was known to them simply as their class-mate, Daniel 
Webster? 



COMMENCEMENT ORATIONS. 83 

On commencemeut day, Daniel Webstei", strangely devia- 
ting from Ms customary topics, pronounced an oration con- 
nected with natural science. The only reliable notice of this 
performance, now extant, is contamed in a memoir made by 
Prof. Alexander, of Princeton, of a journey he took in the sum- 
mer of 1801, through portions of New England. He visited 
Dartmouth ; and on his way there, he fell m with the father 
of the under-graduate : " In passing from Massachusetts over 
the mountains of New HampsMre, I lodged within a few rods 
of the house of a farmer, the father of the Hon. Daniel Web- 
ster. The old gentleman came over to the tavern in the morn- 
mg and chatted for half an hour. Among other thing's, he said 
that he had a son at Dartmouth, who was about to take his 
bachelor's degree. The fatlier was large in frame, high-breasted 
and broad-shouldered, and, like his son, had heavy eyebrows. 
He was an affable man, of sound sense and considerable infor- 
mation, and expressed a wish that I might be acquainted with 
liis son, of whom, it was easy to see, that he was proud." 
Who could blame him 1 

The speech is alluded to, by the venerable Professor, in the 
briefest manner : " At the Dartmouth Commencement, Gen. 
Eaton, of eccentric memory, was the mai-shal of the day, and 
was unceasing m busying himself about the order of the pro- 
cession to the church, giving to each graduate, of every college, 
the place due to his seniority. Among the speakers was young 
Daniel Webster. Little dreaming of his future career in law, 
eloquence, and statesmanship, he pronounced a discourse on the 
recent discoveries in chemistry, especially those of Lavoisier, 
then newly made public." 

It is not so certain what was the character of the young man's 
dreams, notwithstanding this singular selection of a subject. 
He knew, he must have knowii, by his previous success in 
speaking, and by what his heart told him, that he was to be an 
orator, and that oratory was to be to him the art of arts, the 
VOL. I. D"'" 6 



84 WEBSTER AND IIIS MASTER-PIECES. 

great study and business of his life, his highway to honor. But 
he shrunk, as when a school-boy at Exeter, from the first great 
occasion, where he was to prove, or should have proved, the 
nature and grandeur of his talent. 

If tliis is not the solution of the question, it may be found in 
the fact, that, at the same commencement, he had had another 
duty to perform, which had given liim a better scope for ex- 
ertmg himself in his great vocation. The most numerous and 
creditable society of the institution, styled " The United Fra- 
ternity," had chosen him as its orator. He had addressed them 
on the day previous to commencement. This speech, judged 
from its title and the slight notices of it now extant, not only 
coincided with the kno-svn predilections o:^his genius, but entirely 
confinned the universal judgment of its originality and power. 
It was on "The hifluence of Opinion;" and it is yet spoken 
of, by aged persons in the neighborhood of Dartmouth, who 
were so fortunate as to hear it, as a performance quite signifi- 
cant of his coming feme. "Who can tell, that his celebrated 
allusion to the same topic, in lus speech on the Greek Revolu- 
tion, was not the mature expression of the thought here first 
conceived 1 It was a remark of Seneca, that " youth must pre- 
pare what age must use ;" and Burke has somewhere said, that 
his " acts as a man were the working out of his thoughts as a 
boy." Both Seneca and Burke are sustained by the common 
experience of great men ; and it is a natural and interestuig m- 
ference that the patriotic eloquence of 1823 was but a repro- 
duction, so far as this topic goes, of the best thoughts of an 
earlier day. Be this as it may, the press of that day still re- 
ports, that " a numerous audience manifested a high degree of 
satisfaction at the genius displayed," and that the addi-ess was 
characterized by that "elegance of composition and propriety 
of delivery," for wliich, while yet a youth, he had become dis- 
tinguished. 

Mr. Webster was once asked, by a particular friend, respecting 



RECEIVES HIS DEGREE. 85 

his personal appearance about the time of his leaving college. 
" Long, slender, pale, and all eyes," was his answer ; " indeed," 
he added, " I went by the name of 'All-Eyes' the country 
round." A lady, now li\ing near Hanover, gives a fuller de- 
scription of his general aspect at tliis time. According to her 
recollection, he was " slender, and evidently had a feeble con- 
stitution. He was a brunette in complexion ; his hair was as 
black as jet ; and when it was turned back, there was displayed 
a forehead that always excited admiration. His dark eyes 
shone with extraordmary brilliancy; and when engaged in 
agreeable or amusing conversation, he wore a smile that was 
bewitching, and showed teeth as white as pearls." 

On the afternoon of the 26th day of August, 1801, in the 
Congi'cgational Meeting-House, of the to^vn of Hanover, New 
Hampshire, Daniel Webster received at the hands of the Fac- 
ulty of Dartmouth College, and by vote of the Board of Trus- 
tees of the institution, his diploma of graduation, which con- 
feiTed upon him liis first honorary title. He is now no longer 
merely Daniel Webster. He is no longer to be known as the 
son of Colonel Ebenezer Webster, of Salisbury, a revolution- 
ary officer, and a judge of some notoriety. He is now Dmiiel 
Webster, A. B., a graduate of a learned university, carrying 
with Mm the honors of his college. How many a youth has 
toUed his ten years to attain this title to distinction !. How 
many have valued it as more to them than health, or fortune, 
or even friends and kindi'cd ! IIow many have periled life 
and every earthly comfort, to obtain it ; and when obtauied, 
how have they clung to it as the richest and most enviable of 
their possessions ! Would not so ardent a young man, one 
evidently so ambitious, so aspiring, as Daniel Webster, put an 
equally high value on it 1 It was for this, was it not, that he 
had studied, had sacrificed, had labored with his hands, had 
taken the hard earnings of his father, had been buoyed up by 
the prayers and approbation of his mother, and had spent the 



86 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

brightest days of his youth in retirement from the coveted en- 
joyments and pleasures of tlic young 1 No, it was not for 
this. It was not for a piece of parchment that he had labored. 
It was for that, wliich the parchment but faintly represented. 
It was for the education, the discipline, the development of his 
faculties, implied in the language of the document ; and having 
these, he cared notlung for the document itself. Indeed, he did 
not want it. He was afi-aid of it. He was fearful that he 
might rely too much upon it. He resolved to rely solely on 
himself With this self-reliance proudly working at his heart, 
on this memorable afternoon, he enacted a scene peculiarly ex- 
pressive of his character through life. Calling his class-mates 
by particular uwitation, he proceeded to the green in the rear 
of the college, and there deliberately tore into a hundred pieces 
the honorable .diploma, Avhich had cost him the toil of years. 
" My industry," said the remarkable youth, " may make me a 
great man, but this miserable parchment cannot." Saying 
this, he mounts the horse which liis fither had sent to carry 
him home, and enters the great world, without a title, without 
an honor, single-handed and alone. Such a young man, how- 
ever, is to be heard fi-om in after days. 



A 



CHAPTER Y. 

WEBSTER THE LAWYER. 

On returning home, the graduate of Dartn:iouth immediately 
entered liis name, as a law student, with Thomas W. Thomp- 
son, in whose office, when a bare-footed boy, he had set to 
tell visitors where they might find his employer, when he hap- 
pened to be absent. 

Having, thus tar, given some accoimt of th^ persons who 
have acted parts in the education of Daniel Webster, that the 
thoughtful reader may see all the influences exerted upon him, 
wliile his character was being formed, it "svill be useful, in the 
same way, to say something of Mm who introduced the young 
man to his knowledge of the law. ]\Ir. Thompson was a na- 
tive of Boston, ]\Iassachusetts, a son of a Deacon Thompson, an 
Encrlishman. His mother was a Scotch woman. Removmg 
to Newburyport, when the son was yet a lad, the father put 
him under the care of Samuel Moody to be fitted for college. 
Soon after, he entered Cambridge and graduated with high 
honor, perhaps the highest honor, in 1T8G. From this time, 
for several years, liis fortunes were quite checkered. Entering 
the army, as an aid to General Lincoln, in the celebrated 
"Shay's Rebellion," he served to the close of the campaign with 
greafr credit. He then studied theology, intending to be a cler- 
gyman ; but, on being appointed tutor at Cambridge, on ac- 
count of his rare attainments and polite behavior, he reentered 
the walls of the university. Subsequently, he studied law at 
Newburypoi't under Tlicophilus Parsons, who was styled tho " 



88 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Giant of the Law; aiid upon completing his studies, he opened 
an office near the residence of Colonel Webster, with whom 
he boarded. He at once had a lucrative practice, purchased 
property, married, and settled down for life. By diligent at- 
tention to business, he soon acquired a handsome fortune, an 
extensive reputation as a lawyer, no little fame as a state poli- 
tician, and finally a seat in congress. In every post, as well as 
at home, he Avas remarkable for his mdustry, his acquirements, 
liis kindness of heart, the general suavity of his manners, a sort 
of native eloquence in speech and conversation, and a polite re- 
gard for the feelings of others, which made liim a general favor- 
ite. He died in 1819, in consequence of exposures endured 
in escaping fi-om the ill-flited steamer, Phoenk, which was 
burnt to the water's edge at midnight. Such was the man 
■with whom Daniel Webster first undertook the study of his 
profession. 

Tlie young student, however, was too poor to remain here 
long in quiet ; and he wished, also, to earn money with which 
to aid liis brother Ezekiel, who was stUl in college. Just at 
this time, tlii'ough the influence of a personal fi:iend, he was 
called to take charge of an academy at Fryeburg, in the State 
of Maine, where he spent nine months, wliich must be accounted 
as among the most interesting and important of liis life. Tlie 
most reliable statement of tliis part of his personal history has 
been given to the public by G. B. Bradley, Esq., now a resi- 
dent of Fryeburg; and the reader will be ready to enter 
heaitily into the enthusiasm with which he writes. Tlie occa- 
sion of forming a connection with the school is very correctly 
stated : " Mr. Webster's connection with the academy com- 
menced in January, 1802, and terminated in August of the 
same year. The circumstances that directed his course to 
Fryeburg, arose from an early intimacy with the family of 
Hon. John Bradley, of Concord, New Hampshire, whose two 
eldest sons, Robert and Samuel A., were then residing at Frye- 



TEACHES AN ACADEMY. 89 

burg. Mr. Webstei' was graduated at Dartmouth College in 
1801 ; his father had assisted liim through his college course 
■with considerable sacrifice and personal embarrassment, and at 
its close, he looked about for some employment that would en- 
able him to pay the debts conti-acted in his behalf. Ad\ised 
by his friend, Samuel A. Bi-adley, who had received his dcgi-ee 
at the same college two years earlier, and who was then about 
commencing the practice of law at Fryeburg, he applied for the 
post of instructor in the academy, and was appomtcd. Mr. 
BratUey afterward introduced Mr. Webster to Hon. Christo- 
pher Gore, of Boston, as a student of law, who subsequently 
told liim tliat he had brought hun a very remarkable young 
man." 

Mr. Webster's first entrance into Fryeburg is given us by 
tliis writer, in. nearly the words which the statesman, in re- 
cently referruig to it, employed himself: '' In a late mterview 
with Ml-. Robert Bradley, ]\Ir. Webster, to show the minute- 
ness of his recollection, recalled to his mmd an mcidcnt con- 
nected with liis first arrival at Fryebm-g. Said he, ' at that 
time I was a youth not quite twenty years of age, with a slen- 
der frame of less than one houndred and twenty pounds weight ; 
on deciding to go, my father gave me rather an ordmary horse, 
and aft;er makuig the journey from Salisbury, upon his back, I 
was to dispose of him to the best of my judgment, for myo-svn 
benefit. Immediately on my arrival, I called upon you, stating 
that I would sell tlie horse for forty dollars, and requesting your 
aid in his disposal ; you replied, that he was worth more, and 
gave me an obligation for a larger sum, and in a few days suc- 
ceeded ui makmg a sale for me at the advanced price. I well 
remember that the purchaser lived about three miles from the 
village, and that his name was James Walker ; I suppose he 
has loiig since deceased.' On bemg told that he was still livuig, 
he said with great heartiness, ' please give him my best re- 
spects.' " 



90 •WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

His connection with this institution, if not profitable, was 
honorable. When his time was out, he not only received his 
small pay, which was at the rate of three hundred and fifty dol- 
lars per year, but the marked respect of liis patrons in a vote 
of thanks still left upon then' academic books : . 

"September 1, 1802. 
" Voted, That the Secretary return the thanks of this Board 
to Mr. Daniel Webster, for his faithful services while Precep- 
tor of Fryeburg Academy. 

" Wm. Fessenden, Secretary." 

While teachmg in this academy, he ardently pursued the 
study of the law. Borrowing a copy of Blackstone's Com- 
mentaries, he read them thoroughly, and, at the same time, 
reviewed several of his favorite authors. He also read, durincr 
these months, Caesar, Sallust, Cicero, Virgil, and Horace, ma- 
king himself still more flimiliar with the splendid passages, 
which, afterwards, he was always so prepared to quote. These, 
however, were not the whole of his labors, while preceptor at 
this school. He boarded at the Osgood House, the proprietor 
of which was then the Registrar of Deeds ; and, thus getting 
the post of assistant, he spent many of his hours in writuig out 
those records, which are still preserved, and which he often re- 
ferred to as the most laborious work of his youth. " The ache 
is not yet Qut of my fingers," he used to say, " which so much 
writing caused them." 

When out of school, and not otherwise employed, he used to 
spend not a little of his time on the bosom of that beautiful sheet 
of water, called Lovell's Pond, which lies about one mile 
south of the village. It was at that tune full offish; and, like 
Rousseau, he was in the habit of getting into a small boat, and ly- 
ing out upon the water, anghng and thinking, or floatuig along 
carelessly, hoiu* after hour, and fi.*equently from morning till 



MAKES THE TOUR OF MAINE. 91 

night. Tliose hours were by no means idle hours. They ay ere 
houi-s of thought ; and they probably exerted as grent an in- 
fluence on his subsequent career, as any of the time that he 
spent in the most ardent study at his desk. 

At the close of his engagement at Fryebui^, he was joined 
by liis brother Ezekiel ; and, on horseback, then the most or- 
dinary mode of tra^-el, they started for the tour of Elaine. 
" Soon after the commencement of the journey," says the ■N\Titer 
before quoted, " while riding along on hoi'scback, they saw a 
bright, new horseshoe lymg in the road. Ezekiel suggested 
that it was worth pickuig up. Daniel thought it was not ; his 
brother, however, dismounted, and carefully wrapping a new 
silk handkerchief about the shoe, placed it in the pocket of his 
coat. Some time after, on searcliuig for his treasure-trove, he 
only found a soiry opemng worn in the coat, tlux)ugh which 
shoe and handkerchief had jointly disappeared." 

No sooner was he gone, than his remarkable talents became, 
for a time, the topic af general conversation ; and more than 
one person predicted his fiitm"e eminence : " While at Frye- 
bm-g," says Mr, Bradley, " he delivered an oration before the 
citizens on the fomth of July, and although still in his minority 
(if such 'ever was the fact) he exhibited in a marked degree the 
elements of his future greatness. Mr. Ketchum, of Ne\Y York, 
in a late speech says : ' hi early life, when Daniel Webster first 
came from college, Avhen he first assumed the post of prmcipal 
of an academy in one of the interior towns of New England, 
it was predicted by an intelligent citizen of that place that he 
would be the first man m the country.' Reference is here 
made to Rev. Dr. N. Porter, then one of the trustees of the 
academy. At about the same time two citizens of Fryeburg 
were discoursing on the fiiture promise of the youthftil orator, 
when one remarked that he should not be surprised if, before 
his death, he should be chosen governor of New Hampslure. 
The other replied that he Avould fill the office before five years, 



92 WEBSTER AND IIIS MASTER-PIECES. 

if the people could appreciate him, but that so far as Mv. Web- 
ster was concerned, it would be too small business for him." 

Mr. Webster never forgot liis friends ; and he was seldom 
forgotten by them. To the latest day of his life, he remem- 
bered and mentioned this beginning of his long career, his con- 
nection with the academy at Fryebui'g ; and the citizens of that 
place, as well as the surrounduig country, still hold him dear in 
their recollection, as in that admiration which all men bestowed 
upon him : " As an instructor," says Mr. Bradley, " he is still 
held in affectionate and grateflil remembrance by those who 
were so fortunate as to be his pupils ; and in the social circle, 
the recollections of ids vivacity, as well as dignity and refine- 
ment, ai^e still fresh and endm-ing. Nor did Mr. Webster for 
get the scene of his first appearance on the stage of active life. 
Often, when relatmg this passage in his history, did he ' recur 
to pleasing recollections, and indulge in refresliing remembrance 
of the past ' — and to the close of life, he preserved a strong 
regard for the friends he there found. To one of them he thus 
concludes a letter which I now have before me : ' I am happy 
to hear of your establishment, and the growth of your fame. 
You have a little world around you ; fill it with good deeds, 
and you will fill it with your own glory. Yours, in love, D. 
W.' To another, a short tmae smce, he sent a likeness of him- 
self, as a ' token of early and long-continued fiiendship.' I 
have, also, in my possession, a letter of recent date, expressing 
his readiness to forward a public enterprise, m which some of 
the citizens of Fryeburg were engaged. So late as September, 
1851, on being informed that the trustees were sti-ugsflincr to 
rebuild the academy, although vnth. sadly dimmished resources, 
he proposed, if liis life was sjiared, and his engagements would 
permit, to be present at its dedication, and to deliver the open- 
ing address. While in common with his afflicted family, 
and, we might add, the whole family of ci^dlized man, we 
profoundly and sincerely mourn that the grave has closed over 



RE-ENTERS MR. THOMPSON'S OFFICE. 93 

the great man of the nmcteeiith centiuy, there is also mingled 
•H-ith our grief a selfish sorrow that his strong arm could not 
have been spared to assist in placing on a fu-m foundation the 
institution that was so proud to acknowledge his fostering care 
in early youth." 

There is a foct connected with Mr. Webster's residence at 
Fryeburg, of a nature to encourage the yomig and aspiring, who 
have poverty to contend with, while it will convey instniction 
to all readers. On the books of the academy there is still this 
record : 

"Voted, Tliat the thanks of tliis Board be pres^ted to 
Preceptor "Webster for his ser\T[ces this day, and that he 
would accept five dollars as a small acknowledgement of their 
sense of his services this day pei'formed. 

" William Fessenden, Secretary." 

This was iai 1802 ; and it is essential to state, that the ser- 
vice here acknowledged, as the writer was once told by the late 
Hon. Judah Dana, of Fryeburg, a trustee of the academy at 
the tune, consisted of extra exertions at the annual exliibition 
of the school, including a very fuie address to the citizens and 
students. All this, then, was performed by Daniel Webster, 
when unlaiown to the great world, for the sum of five dollars. 
At a later period, when known and appreciated at his true 
value, a similar amount of labor, perhaps not much better done, 
would have brought, as it has often brought, thousands to his 
purse. Such, youtlifal reader, is the worth of a reputation ! 

After making a brief tour through the most picturesque and 
important parts of Maine, whose scenery can scarcely be sur- 
passed even in this coimtiy, Mr. Webster returned to Salis- 
bury, and reentered the law-oftice of Mr. Thompson. Having 
paid his board, and his other expenses, by his labors in the re- 
gistrar's office, he was now possessed of more money than he 



94 "WEBSTER And his master-piece^. 

had ever had before at one tune. It was all his owii. He had 
earned it himself, and it gave him a feeling of self-reliance, 
which he had never felt' before. But he did not keep his 
money. Ezekiel was still at school ; and, after having paid 
the expenses of both, on their joint trip, he divided the re- 
mainder with liis brother, when he was about starting off again 
for college. He had enough left, however, for all his own im- 
mediate purposes. He boarded at home, and pursued his 
studies with Mr. Thompson nearly without cost. 

He remained with Mr. Tliompson about eighteen months, 
during wliich time he probably accpiired more legal learning, 
than most young men would have acquired in three years. He 
was an exceedingly hard student. He was also a judicious 
student. He knew what to read, and when to read, and how 
to read. In this respect, as perhaps in almost every other, ex- 
cepting the amoimt of learning in the law, he was even supe- 
rior to his master. It was a habit of Mr. Thompson to put 
into the hands of his pupils the most chfficult authors first, in- 
tending, as he used to say, in this way " to break them in," and 
show them what they had to do. Mr. Webster dissented from 
this course. He told liis patron, that, instead of breakmg his 
pupils in, it was almost a sure way to break them doion. The 
teacher and scholar could not agi-ee ; but, as in all his ftiture 
career, the scholar, perfectly convinced of liis own opinion, 
would take his own way ; and his example, together with what 
he has often said upon the subject, has done much to bring about 
the reformed method, the more inductive method, of studying 
the law, which is now almost universally pursued. 

During this residence in the office of Mr. Thompson, in ad 
dition to the regular studies of his course, he undertook to re- 
view the most important duties of the office, in college, and 
particularly such of them as pertained especially to the law. He 
read almost incessantly. From morning till night, every day 
for a year and a half, he read, thought, reflected, and thus filled 



GOES TO BOSTON. 95 

his mind witli those facts and principles, which he was after- 
wards to use. When the office was crowded with clients, or 
\isitors, or neighbors, he would sit by liimself, silently perusing 
his author and taking notes, as if there were no other persons 
in the world, but the reader and the writer of the book. No 
matter what occurred, no matter what was said, unless he was 
himself addi'essed, there he sat, his huge eyes fixed in deep 
study upon the page, his mind lost in its profoimd, mtricate, 
all-absorbing worjv. When thus engaged, he was an object of 
general observation to all who visited the office ; and a pictiu"e 
of the scene, of Daniel Webster the law-student at his books, 
would be a picture, which any student might well wish to see 
on canvas, but might far better have imprmted upon liis ima- 
gination, his memory, or his heart. 

After completing liis" year and a half with Mr. Thompson, 
during wliich time he had probably about reached the level of 
his mastei"'s Imowledge in the profession, he began to ' look 
about him for a situation suited to liis demands. He looked 
all over New Hampshire to find a man of exactly the cliarac- 
ter to make liim a fit instructor. There were several then 
there, whose abilities, whose acquirements, whose position, were 
of a very high order ; but the more he thought upon the sub- 
ject, and the more he compared the advantages of one man 
and one place with other men and other places, the more he 
was convinced, that he ought to finid the best place and the best 
man, not of New Hampshire, but of the whole country. When 
entirely settled in this conviction, it required no great length of 
time to settle all that it carried with it. Boston, of course, was 
the place ; and, though there were several lawyers in the capi- 
tal of New England of nearly equal fame, the talents and learn- 
ing of Governor Gore marked liun out as tlie most proper per- 
son for the business now in hand. In the month of July, 
tlierefore, in the year 1804, Mr. Webster removed to Boston, 
and began what may be termed his second course as a law- 



96 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

student, under one of the best masters, at the age of twenty 
two. 

La this office, at an age comparatively mature, Mr. "Webster 
commenced a liigher life, such as he had scarcely dreamed of be- 
fore. The Hon. Clmstopher Gore was a man of great natural 
strength of mind, of remarkable versatility of talent, learned in 
every department of his profession, an able counselor, an elo- 
quent barrister, famihar with the broader as with the narrower 
fields of the law, and a statesman of clear, positive, and rather 
comprehensive \'iews. With all liis lore, and all liis native 
abilities, he was no wayward genius, but a man of sound, sober, 
sterluig common sense. Lideed, in every respect, he was truly 
a gi-eat man. His advice to J\Ir. Webster was always useful ; 
his instructions added daily to the mass of the student's acqui- 
sitions ; and his conversation was always so learned, so practi- 
cal, so mstructive, and yet so eloquent, that it was a continuous 
lesson, Avhile it never failed to charm. 

Though endowed with that wonderful power of concentra- 
tion, which made him remarkable in the office of Mr. Thomp- 
son, and for wliich he has been celebrated ever since, Mr. 
Webster often found the intercourse held between Governor 
Gore and the great men of the day, who used to visit him, 
more entertainmg and more immediately instnictive than liis 
books. Apart, ui a corner by himself, he would nevertheless sit 
with his eyes upon his author, but -with liis mind upon the men, 
who used to visit liis mstructor, whenever they came in to talk ; 
and, in tliis way, he began to look out upon the great world, 
into which he was soon to enter, through the fi-ee revelations of 
those remarkable characters, who, though a part of that world, 
still would thus abandon and betray it for a time. What a flood 
of light can be thus thrown, respecting all that more intricate 
and more important part of life, not kno'svn in books, upon the 
mind of a young man prepared and eager for it ! And there 
never was a mind better prepared, or more eager, more in- 



HIS STUDIES WITH MR. GORE. 97 

tensely eager, for every kind and degi-ee of information, in re- 
gard to men and things, than that of the young man, Daniel 
Webster ; and scarcely ever was such a mind so thoroughly, so 
constantly, furnished with what it craved. Wliile yet unknown 
himself, he thus made an acquaintance, a sort of daily and fa- 
miliar acquaintance, witli many of the fu"st characters of tlio 
age. In after life, as an example of his opportunities, in this 
regard, he used to tell how he became acquainted with a gen- 
tleman, whose reputation was then wide, and whose name will 
not soon die : "I remember one day," says the. narrator, " as 
I was alone m the office, a man came in and asked for Mr. 
Gore. Mr. Gore was out ; and he sat down to wait for him. 
He was dressed m plain gray clothes. I went on with my 
book, till he asked me what I was readuig, and, coming along 
up to the table, took the book and looked at it. ' Rocciis,^ said 
he, 'c?e JVavibus et Nando. Well, I read that book too when 
I was a boy;' and proceeded to talk not only about slirps and 
freights^ but insurance, prize, and other mattei-s of maritime 
law, in a manner 'to put me to all I knew,' and a good deal 
more. Tlie gray-coated sti'anger turned out to be Mr. Ilufus 
King." 

From July, 1804, to ^Marcli, 1805, Mr. Webster remamed 
in the office of Governor Gore ; he there read m the higher de- 
partments of the law altogether ; he made Inmself well ac- 
C[uauited with the common law, with maritune law, and with 
special pleading, reading for tliis latter purpose the old folio 
edition of Saimders. As an exercise of his skill in language, 
but more espcially to impress facts and principles upon liis 
memory, he translated the Latin and Nomian French into good 
English. What is still more remarkable, he made a manu- 
script brief of every case hi the book ; and these briefs were 
presented to his master for mspection, who, always ready 
with mstruction, would pour out comment after comment, and 
explanation upon explanation, till everything M-as as clear as 



98 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

sunlight. Tliis, iii fact, was Mr. Gore's usual method with his 
pupils. It was a pleasure to him to instruct them ; and his ex- 
temporaneous discourses, as Mr. Webster has said, were fi-e- 
quently as learned, and always more eloquent and captivating, ] 

than the book. j. 

It was in this office, that Mr. Webster first flilly learned, or f 

first began to see. with the force of a conviction, that the law is 
a historical science, and that if the student would understand it 
thoroughly, he must lay liis foundation on history. At that 
time, Lingard, Turner, Hallam, and other sunilar though not 
equal critics, had written not a Ime of their celebrated works, 
wliich now lead the law-student directly and easily, along a 
beaten path, to the basis of his profession. The connection be- 
tween law and history had not then been formed ; but Mr. 
Webster, seeing the connection, and feeling his way along alone, 
by daily reading of the great historians, especially of Hume, 
made himself familiar, at last, with the elements of his science. 
The principles, which he saw were established by general con- 
currence and long precedent, he not only learned and fixed in 
his memory, as most law students try to do, but ti'aced them 
back, from country to country, and from age to age, till he 
found their starting-points in time and their origin as ideas. 

This, indeed, is what made Mr. Webster a lawyer such as 
he undeniably was. He was a lawyer, not of flicts barely, but 
of reasons, able to go to the bottom of everything belonging to. 
the law. It is this ability, f()unded upon this practice of thorough 
investigation, that makes, or will make, any man a lawyer, 
while nothing else will do it ; and it is remarkable, that, of the 
vast multitude of young men, who make the law their pro- 
fession, so few study it in this philosophical and thorough man- 
ner. If every law-student in the land would take up the study 
in tills way — would take a prmciple of American law, for ex- 
ample, and ti-ace it through our own history into the history 
of the mother countiy,then back to its introduction into the juris- 



TOUR TO ALEANV. 99 

prudence of Great Britain, tlicn still back lo the older practice 
of the continental codes and courts, then flirther and farther 
back to its germ in the Roman laws, where its relations to Ro- 
man civilization, and possibly its birth in the times of the Gre- 
cian lawgivers, might be clearly seen — then should we have 
lawyers worthy of their gi'eat profession, worthy of their comi- 
tiy, worthy of that admiration wliich many receive but few 
merit. No language can utter the fact with due force, that, as 
a general rule, the law is studied, in this coimtry, very super- 
ficially. That science, which lies at the bottom of all social 
knowledge, wMch is the exponent of the civilizations of all peo- 
ple, which is the only key to an understanduig of the world 
that now is, as well as a certain index of past and future peri- 
ods, and which demands the best faculties flilly developed by 
the best of discipline, is commonly undertaken by raw youth, 
whose education is very limited, whose ideas of their profession 
are equally narrow, and whose highest ambition is gratified after 
a brief course of hasty and superficial study. It is for this 
reason that we are a nation of pettifoggers. Ever^^ city, every 
town, every small village, swarms -with these buzzing busy- 
bodies. In all the cities, and in all the land, wo have, or rather 
have had, occasionally, a Hamilton, a Pinckney, a Clay, a Story, 
to redeem the profession from utter insignificance. It was dig- 
nified, noble, in fivct sublime, in the hands of Daniel Webster ; 
and he prepared himself to elevate his calling, to the degree 
here acknowledged, by that deep and thorough study, for 
which, in the beginning of his career, he is justly noted. 

This severe labor of mind, however, began to wear upon the 
student's physical constitution. Rest was prescribed ; and to 
rest he added recreation. In company with a Mr. Baldwin, an 
eccentric but very intelligent gentleman of considerable Avealth 
and some position, he made quite a tour, during the autumn of 
1804, through various parts of New England, and extended his 
rambles finally as far as the Hudson river. Tlie fi-iends trav- 
voL. I. E 7 



100 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

eled in an open carnage, which gave them a fine opportunity 
for seeing the country, as well as for that free and familiar con- 
versation, from which they would have been restricted in a 
public conveyance. On reaching Albany, they put up at a 
hotel at the foot of State street, where they remained a fort- 
night. Into what sort of society, it is natural to ask, would 
such a man as Mr. Taylor Baldwin, unknown in those parts, 
and an equally obscure law-student, be likely to find themselves, 
among a wealthy and rather aristocratic population, such as at 
that time inhaliitcd the old Dutch metropolis "? From all we 
know of Mr. Baldwin, he was not the man to introduce Daniel 
Webster into such society as his. talents claimed ; and from all 
we know of Daniel Webster, he was not the person to take up 
with what was positively below him. So, in this dilemma, he 
is doomed to be without society, or to introduce himself. 
The latter, however, was no difficult thing for such a young 
man to do. He had no sooner taken his place at the hotel, 
than his i-emarkable appearance, his dignified and graceful man- 
ners, his easy and captivating conversation, the apparently 
boimdlcss extent of his knowledge and mformation, marked 
him as an object of general observation. Instead of trying to 
introduce himself to others, it was the desire of all to be intro- 
duced to him. Mr. Baldwin, though a man of years and self- 
consequence, had to act between the parties as a sort of gentle- 
man usher to his young fi'iend. During the journey, the rela- 
tion between the travelers had been, that j\Ir. Webster was 
traveling with Mr. Baldwin. Here, where neither was known, 
Mr. Baldwin found himself suddenly transformed into a gentle- 
man traveling with Mr. Webster, The law-student was now all. 
He was soon known by all the guests. They consisted of transient 
boarders and citizens, among whom were merchants and lawyers. 
They, learning the object of Mr. Webster's visit, and forward 
to show him the town and all it contained worthy of his notice, 
at once put him into the hands of the leading characters of the 



IS OFFERED A CLERKSHIP. 101 

city. Ill this way, he made the acquaintance of nearly every 
prominent citizen. He visited the Schuylers at Schuyler Place. 
He was at the house of Stephen Van Rensselaer, the patroon 
of that day, and the first man in wealth of the whole I'cgion 
of the Hudson. lie saw the institutions, literary, social and re- 
ligious ; and, in the course of his short visit of fourteen days, 
he made himself entirely familiar with everything there was, at 
that time, in Albany. It was his first attempt to enter into soci- 
ety ; and, unlike young men of ordinary abilities, who experience 
such difiiculties in their introduction to the world, he found 
every door and avenue wide open, with every one within the 
charmed circle beckoning and pressing him to enter. 

Such marked respect, such sudden popularity, would have 
turned the head of many a young man. It was not so with 
Webster. Without a particle of pride, but with his usual 
simplicity of manner, he received it all as if he thought that 
nothing extraordinary, nothing not called for, had happened. 
Then, when liis season of recreation was over, he returned to 
Boston, to the office, to his deep and laborious studies, as mo- 
dest, as deferential, though not quite as bashful a young man 
as when he left them. 

Just before he had completed his course of study, while still 
in the office with Governor Gore, an event occurred which 
nearly overturned the settled plans of Mr. AVebster, and which 
would have robbed the profession of its greatest master, the 
nation of its most distinguished statesman, and the world, in 
almost every sense, of its most illustrious man. His flither 
still remamed a judge on the New Hampshire bench. He M^as 
old and infiii-jn, but the respect of all classes still sustained him 
at liis post. The money he had expended, and was still spend- 
ing, for the education of his sons, had so exhausted his. re- 
sources, that he had been oliliged to increase the mortgage upon 
his farm. It was the purpose, it had always been the joint 
promise of Ezukiel and Daniel, at the very first opportunity 



102 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

after the completion of their studies, to lift this mortgage and 
set their self-sacrificing and patient father free. They had long 
known, too, that, in his age and infirmities, he could not 
bear up under the pressure of a debt, as he had done when well 
and strong. They knew that it preyed upon liis spirits ; that 
he began to mdulge in disagreeable forebodings ; that he fre- 
quently mentioned to his wife, as well as to them, the prospect 
of his dying at last, after all his struggles, a poor and perhaps 
a needy man. Oftentimes, the family had been affected to 
weeping by his distress; and the resolution had been at such times 
repeated, and redoubled, by both the boys, to hasten their work, 
and press into active employment, that they might quiet the 
fears and soothe the sorrows of their parent, whom it troubled 
them to see thus disturbed. Now, Daniel was about through 
his course ; now, he felt the duty and responsibility resting on 
him ; and now, as Providence would have it, an opportunity 
occurred, at the nick of time, when all these pious resolutions 
might be redeemed. At the solicitation of the father, and by 
the unanimous and free consent of all concerned, Daniel was 
appointed clerk of his father's court, with a salary and perqui- 
sites amounting to the enviable sum of fifteen hundred dollars 
a year. Tliis, in a short time, would not only pay off his fa- 
ther's debts, but soon bring in a competency to himself. In 
those days, in fact, this large salary was not barely a compe- 
tency. It was wealth; and Daniel, \\dth this situation, could 
look fortune in the eye, soothe the troubled heart of liis good 
old father, and almost smooth down the wruikles of old age. 
Young as he was. and poor as he had always been, he may 
be seen, in our imagination, to leap with sudden joy at the pros- 
pect so strangely and unexpectedly opened to him. 

Perhaps, reader, as we see him now, in fency, doing what 
history tells he actually did — leaving the office of his patron — 
proceeding directly, by the shortest and quickest route, to the 
residence of his father — hastening into the old homestead, with- 



DECLINES THE OVERTURE. 103 

out -waiting to fasten his horse, the moment he has reached the 
door — perhaps, with the letter of appointment in his hand, he is 
going in to fall down before the aged sire, or to em])racc him 
in his filial arms, that he may tell him in person \\ith \Yhat 
gratitude he accepts the overture which the court has made. 

Be this as it may, one thing history has made certain. The 
old man, touched by the alacrity of the son, and grateful for 
the independence now at last freel}^ offered to them both, burst 
into tears the moment that he saw^ Daniel's fece. His passion 
could not wait for ceremony : " I only mentioned it to them," 
said he in tearful triumph, and without a word of hitroduction — 
" I only mentioned it to them, and it was no sooner said than 
done ! " 

Daniel did not seem to be as mtemperate in liis joy, or in 
his gratitude, as the occasion appeared to warrant, hi feet, he 
was rather embarrassed for a moment, but quickly recovered. 
The father noticed the manner of the son, and saw that all was 
not just right. 

"What do you mean, Daniel," said Colonel Webster. "I 
know not what to make of your appearance." 

" Father," said Daniel, who always knew exactly how to 
say what he wished — " Father, suppose I should decline this 
magnificent offer of their honors ? " 

The judge was at once perplexed. He did not relish the 
hint thro^vn out. hideed, he was manifestly displeased, for 
he saw at a glance what Daniel's manner and W'Ords meant : 
" Do you mean to decline the appointment ? " said he to Daniel. 

" Most certamly, father," said the young clerk, " I cannot do 
otherwise." 

" Cannot do ! — cannot do ! — what can you do % " said the 
old man, stemly. 

" I can do much better, father," replied the law-student, " as 
I can show you, if 3'ou will listen." 

" Well, my son " said the father, softening a little, " your 



104 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

mother has always said, that you would come to something or 
to notliing, she Avas not sure which. I think you are now about 
settling that doubt for her." 

Daniel began and went on A\ath his explanation, which he 
concluded by poui-ing into Ms father's lap as much gold as would 
discharge Mm fi-om all Ms debts, and set Ms heart at rest. Sur 
prised, overwhelmed, by tliis sudden freak of .fortune, the old 
man could hardly believe Ms eyes, but thought he was acting a 
character in some fauy tale, of wMch Ms son was the presiding 
spirit. He now wept agam, and wished to Imow what all this 
could mean. Darnel was good at oratory, and could answer 
every demand made upon his tongue. He told him all about 
it. He told Mm, in short, how a friend of his m Boston, a 
man by the name of Emery, had strangely and Idndly vOffered 
to let Min have the money, wMeh he was to pay back when he 
might find it convenient to do so ; and that aU the securit}^ he 
had given for tiae repayment of the loan was Ms naked word. 
At tills, the old man fell to sheddmg tears more than ever, in 
which, it is said, the mother and the son had to jom at last. At 
aU events, Daniel carried the point. 

The fixedness of purpose with which !Mr. Webster ■with- 
stood the temptation of the clerkship, was due in part to the 
advice and encouragement of his patron. Mr. Gore used 
every argument, wMch the occasion would naturally suggest, to 
dissuade him from accepting the appointment, to which, at the 
first, he was more than half inclined. In fact, at one time, he 
had made up his mind to take it, and thus end the straggle for 
existence, as well as gi'atify what he knew to be the wishes of 
Ms father. No man, perhaps, of all his acquaintance, was bet- 
ter qualified to overturn this resolution, than Mr. Gore. He 
had Mr. Webster's confidence to the utmost. He had been to 
him, not so much a master, as a familiar friend. He was thor- 
ougMy impressed with the extraordinary talents of his pupil, 
and used to say to his visitors, that the name of that pupil 



IS ADMITTED TO THE BAR. 105 

■would one day be a name of which the whole countiy would 
be proiifl. He was himself emphatically a lawyer — a lawyer 
by choice, by education, by long-practice, and by natural incli 
nation and feeling ; and he was exactly the man to portray the 
good points of the profession in such a manner, so to draw out 
the picture of his ideal, as to seize upon the imagmation, rouse 
the enthusiasm, and determine the resolution of a young man 
of Mr. Webster's high ambition and elevated sentiments. All 
these advantages, and every other possessed by him, he had 
used upon his pupil, with all the fervor and eloquence that be- 
longed to him in conversation. He had succeeded entirely in 
changing the purposes of Daniel ; and Daniel himself, when he 
sat down with his father, at the time just mentioned, to talk the 
matter over, had the satisfaction of being able to add Mr. Gore's 
advice to his O'wtii views, which had thus become settled never 
again to be disturbed or diverted. 

On returning to Boston, he v^as received with open arms by 
all his new fi-iends ; and, after spending a few weeks more in 
the office, he was presented by Governor Gore to the court for 
admission. This was in the month of ISIarch, 1805 ; and the 
governor, on offering his name, is said to have departed some- 
what from the usual manner of sucli proceeding, and to have made 
a brief speech on the extraordinary abilities and promise of the 
candidate. Webster was admitted ; and from this hour, he is 
no longer a youth, a school-boy, a preceptor, or a law-student, 
but a man, a member of the bar, a lawyer of ]\Iassachusetts. 

Perhaps no lawyer of IMassachusetts, or of any other state, 
ever entered the profession under so enviable a prestige. As a 
student, he had become well acquainted vrith the lawyers of 
the city ; and Jilr, Gore's eulogy, which Avas from his heait and 
very eloquent, at once gave Ixim a reputation in advance of the 
ordinary probation. On the day of his admission, he had a 
better standing, and was better known, than some old lawyers 
then in practice in the metropolis. He was actually courted 



106 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

by those of the profession, who foresaw his future eminence, 
and who perceived that his good will might be of use to them 
in coming time. His friends wrote to him from New Hamp 
shire to return home, by all means, and settle among his first 
acquaintances, who thought they had the first right to him. 
They m-ged him to come on the ground of policy. They told 
him, that the members of his family, and the people of his 
state, would naturally feel an obligation to stand by him, and a 
pride in giving him success, which he could not expect from 
strangers. 

On the other hand, the citizens of Boston were advising him, 
at the same time, to remain with them, where his talents would 
have a wider field of action, and where competition would be 
more likely to draw him out and thus develop him. They 
insisted too, that he ought to think something of the chances 
of emolument, which, in a new and sparsely-settled country, 
like New Hampshire, would be few and seldom, but would be 
abundant in the metropolis of New England. Several of the 
leading merchants of the city offered him their patronage, one 
firm alone actually putting into his hands a collecting business 
amounting to over thirty thousand dollars. 

Between these two offers, Mr. Webster could not long hesi- 
tate, when he took into consideration the arguments of both 
parties ; but there was an element in the question, which neither 
his fi:iends in New Hampshire, nor his friends in Boston, had 
thought to mention. It was an element, too, which had more 
weight with him, it seems, than all other considerations. It 
was the fact, that his good old father, who had spent lus life for 
his children, who had periled liis property to send his two boys 
to college, was now very infirm, and wished the younger son 
to be with him, or near him, in his declinmg years. This wish 
brought the ambition and filial love of a very ambitious, and a 
very aflfectionate young man, into opposite sides of the same 
scale. Which, reader, will outweigh the other 1 No one, who 



HIS FIRST CAUSE IX COURT. 107 

knows the heart of the young man, or who ever knew the heart 
of the same man through every period of his life, need hesitate 
to answer. He, who, to the latest hour, could never write the 
name of his father, and who never did write it, without putting af- 
ter it a poiiitof admiration, could not long debate, could ncjt and 
did not debate at all, the question between ambition and affection. 
Tlie point was immediately decided. He at once left Boston, 
left his interesting and useful associations, left his most numer- 
ous and most powerful friends, left all the pictures that had 
been drawn out to his warm imagination, left the entreaties of 
all who knew him, to begin his career m a comparative wilder- 
ness, among a population who could not then entirely appreci- 
ate nor half employ his talents, that he might be a comfort to 
him, who had sacrificed his own comfort, and risked all of his 
worldly means, to give him the advantages of a thorough edu- 
cation. He went to Boscawen and opened an office near the 
residence of his father. Over his door he put up the unpre- 
tending sign, which is still preserved as a memento of a great 
man's start in life — "i). Webster, Attorne%jr 

In the month of ISIarch, 1805, in the twenty-thu-d year of 
his age, and after a nine years' period of study, ]\Ir. Webster 
here commenced, in a small but healthful and beautiful village, 
in the interior of New Hampshire, the practice of his profession ; 
and it is probably not too much to say of him, that, though yet 
but little more than a youth, he was the most remarkable in- 
dividual, and the individual most marked, most spoken of, if 
not in the whole state, at least in that section of the state. His 
practice was, consequently, of very rapid grov.lh. It began, in 
flict, on the day of his opening an office ; and his first cause in 
court followed immediately this event. It v/as a civil suit, but 
a suit of consi<lerable consequence to the litigants, though of no 
general interest, excepting what it derived from the notoriety 
of the young banister who was to try it. The circumstances 
of the occasion were peculiar and interesting. It was a causa 
VOL. I. E* 



108 "WEESTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

to be tried before his own father, who still occupied his post as 
judge ; and the sheriff of the county, Colonel William Webster, 
w^is a distant relative, who, whatever he might have heard of 
Daniel, had never seen him till that day. The young lawyer 
there met his former master, Hon. Thomas W. Thompson, as 
well as several other law^^ers of ability and experience ; and 
they were all on the tiptoe of excitement to listen to the maiden 
effort of their junior brother, about whom so many predictions 
had been uttered. When he came into court, he must have 
felt, and felt keenly, the importance of the hour to him ; but, 
though modest in his demeanor, he did not seem to be embar- 
rassed. His old patron, Mr. Thompson, would naturally greet 
him with an affectionate and hearty welcome ; the older law- 
yers would as naturally follow the example, in form at least, 
if not 'with the same spirit ; wliile the younger members of the 
bar might have had some feelings of an indescribable character, 
such as they would scarcely have been willing to acknowledge. 
There was one there, however, who, it appears, was not afi-aid 
to acknowledge, or to say openly and frankly, just what he 
thought and felt upon the occasion. That man was the sheriff. 
When he saw his kinsman coming into the audience-room, 
" he felt ashamed," as he said, " to see so lean and feeble a 
young man come into court, bearing the name of Webster." 
His shame, nevertheless, soon left him ; and from the time that 
the young man walked out of court, he had more reason to be 
proud that his own name was Webster, In the trite but pithy 
language of the Hon, Mr. Russel, who heard Daniel's effort of 
that day, not only the lawyers, but all present, came to the 
conclusion, that he had " an old head on young shoulders," 
Indeed, contrary to the idle tales told about it in later times, 
this first speech of Mr, Webster's, as a specimen of oratory, 
was a good effort, and, as a specimen of legal tact and know- 
ledge, was triumphant. The fact that the speech, the argu- 
ment, was to be delivered in the presence of his father, who 



OPENIXG SUCCESS. 109 

would then and there see what all his own sacrifices had been 
made for, and what they had conme to, undoubtedly nerved 
Daniel up to do his best. He always needed some motive of 
a powerful kind to draw out all liis power ; and it is equally 
well known, that never, when thus dra^^^^ out, did he make 
anything less than a gi-and and irresistible demonstration of 
his abilities. 

Tlie impression made upon the bar, by this argument, and 
by his general practice .at the begiiuiing of his career, is seen 
in the history of a criininal prosecution occurring at this time. 
It was a case in which a man was tried for murder ; and ]\Ir. 
Webster, though not yet admitted to practice before the su- 
preme court, as the period of his candidacy had not yet ex- 
pired, was appointed, by express commission of the judges, to 
defend the prisoner. An account of the manner in which he 
discharged this duty, with the attending circumstances, was 
many years ago given to the public : "The murder," says the 
writer, " was foul and horrid, perpetrated on an innocent man, 
a fellow prisoner for debt. They were in the same room. 
No provocation was given by the sufferer, or none that 
would, in the slightest degree, palliate the offense. Tlie fiict 
of killing could not be questioned; and the defense, of course, 
was narrowed toonepoint — the insanity of the prisoner . There 
were no proofs of his former insanity, but, on the contrary, 
the malignity of his disposition was Avell known to all the 
country around. His counsel, nevertheless, was not de- 
terred from going on, with all these formidable circumstan- 
ces to contend with. He argued, that the enormity of the 
deed, perpetrated without motive, or without any of those 
motives operating upon most minds, furnished presumptive 
proof of the alienation of the prisoner's mind ; and even the 
cool deliberation, and apparent severity which he exhibited 
at the time the deed was done, were proofs that reason was 
perverted, and that a momentary insanity had come over 



110 WEBSTER AKD HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

him. The advocate astonished the court and jury, and all 
who heard him, by his deep knowledge of the human raind. 
He opened all the springs of action, and analyzed every fac- 
ulty of the mind, so lucidly and philosophically, that it was 
a new school for those who heard him. He showed the dif- 
ferent shapes insanity assumed, from a single current of false 
reasoning, upon a particular subject, while there is a perfect 
soundness of mind upon every other subject, to the reasoning 
aright upon wrong premises, or to the reasoning wrong upon 
right premises, up to those paroxysms of madness, when the 
eye is filled with strange sights, and the ear with strange 
sounds, and reason is entirely dethroned. As he laid open 
the infirmities of human nature, the jury were in tears, and 
the bystanders still more affected ; but common sense pre- 
vailed over argument and eloquence ; and the wretch was 
convicted and executed. Notwithstanding the fate of the 
murderer, the speech lost nothing of its effect upon the peo- 
ple. It was long the subject of conversation in every public 
place ; and it is often mentioned now with admiration." 

During his residence in the beautiful village of Boscawen, 
Mr. Webster did not permit himself to devote all his time and 
attention to the law. His appetite for general knowledge, and 
his warm and active imagination, constantly led him off", in the 
intervals of his severer occupation, into the delightful fields of 
history, biography, and poetry. History he had studied pro- 
foundly and extensively ; but he still wished to cultivate par- 
ticular departments, that all the world, and the annals of all 
nations, might be perfectly familiar to him. He could not bear 
to hear an allusion to any event, of remote or recent date, re- 
lating to any people, barbarous or civilized, or having any re- 
lation to the events of the present day, and not entirely under- 
stand it. His reading, in this respect, was so extensive, and so 
thorough, that, before he was twenty -five years of age, he was 
able to stand his ground in conversation or debate with tho 



HIS LOVE OF POETRY. Ill 

most eminent of his cotemporarles ; and, from that time to the 
close of his long life, he is not known to have made a mistalie, 
as a writer, or as a speaker, though speaking frequently with- 
out notes, in making historical references or quotations. In 
biography, too, in his knowledge of great men, ancient and 
modern, he here began to lay out that broad foundation, 
which, in after life, never disappointed him ; nor can it be de- 
nied, that his study of the lives of the most illustrious of his 
species, to which he now gave up a great portion of his leisure 
hours, evidently exerted a controlling influence in the formation 
of his own character. It fired his ambition, enlightened his un- 
derstanding, imparted to him a great many maxims of success- 
ful living, derived from the fortimes and misfortunes of the 
great, while it tended to check his passions, to regulate his will, 
and induce such habits of industry, sobriety and energy as sel- 
dom fliil in giving the greatest possible development to the fac- 
ulties, and the highest elevation, at last, to their possessor. In 
poetry, particularly, he was at this period a very constant and 
careful reader. He was exceedingly fond, at this time, of the 
English classic poets. He perused them -nath a relish, and with 
a grasp of conception and of fancy, which filled his mind with 
their most charming images, and imprinted their finest passages 
ujwn his memory. Not only the poets best known, but those 
lying outside of the general range of readers, such as Chaucer, 
Spenser, and the dramatists earlier than Shakspeare, he studied 
daily, Shakspeare, however, as was to have been expected, 
was alone a study. He read him, as few do read him, criti 
cally, closely, philosophically, as well as for the exalted pleas- 
ure of the perusal. He read him as a pupil reads the produc- 
tions of his master. He considered him as his master, as the 
master of all men in the department of human nature, as the 
great master and teacher of the English language, of English 
composition, and of true eloquence. He set him alx)vc ev- 
ery poet, ancient and modern, as the sublimest genius ever 



112 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

known among mortals. His admiration 'of him was then as 
high, as supreme, as it ever was afterwards ; and he is known 
to have regarded him, through all his ctu'eer, as superior to 
Milton, to Sophocles, and to Homer. He was once inquired of 
respecting the particular play he liked best : " Always the one," 
said he, " that I have read last, and the others better than any 
thing else on earth, outside of revelation." 

Mr. Webster always made an exception, as in this instance, 
of the bible, which he ever regarded as the most admirable and 
wonderful of books. At the period of his life now before us, 
he read this volume every day, with great reverence, but with 
a special design to comprehend it. As a profound, fundamen- 
tal!, universal lawyer, he could not neglect a production, as he 
often said, which contained in it the elements of all law, the 
first principles of' human society, and the histories of the earli- 
est forms of government. He could here trace the growth and 
progress of civilization from its origin. He here had, in the 
amials of the great empires of antiquity, the most memorable 
and magnificent illustrations of the different styles of govern- 
ment, of the several forms of human association, and of the 
influence and effect of nearly every system of laws and every 
species of legislation. Among the rest, there was one style 
of government, one system of laws, so peculiar, so consistent, 
so complete, that it demanded and received his most unquali- 
fied attention, his deepest and severest study. A theocracy es- 
tablished by divine omniscience, and put into actual operation 
among a most practical and worldly people, he considered a 
thing so abnormal, so out of the ordinary coiu'se, and yet so 
entirely authenticated as a fact, and as the greatest fact in the 
history of the human race, that he could not do otherwise than 
give to it a most carefiil and thorough investigation. La this 
way, he became a regular and unremitting student of the bible; 
and as he read on, and mastered the great topic of his inquiry, 
other topics opened up before him, and fixed his attention, till 



WRITES FOR THE PRESS. 113 

he had formed the habit, as a professional man, of reading the 
scriptures consecutively and thoughtfully. This habit, mingled 
Avith the instructions of his mother, and with the recollections 
of his youth, now established in Ids mind that admiration, in 
his heart that reverence, for the word of God, which never left 
him. He has often been heard to say, that, merely as literary 
compositions, the psalms and the prophets have no superiors, 
and that the book of Job has nothing like an equal. 

About this time, Mr. Webster began to write for the public 
press. There Avas a magazine then published at Cambridge, 
Massachusetts, knowii as the Monthly Antholofjy^ conducted by 
his old friend, Joseph S. Buckminster, and supported by several 
gentlemen of more than ordinary standing in the republic of 
letters. Though the work can hardly endure a comparison 
with the Spectator, or the Tattler, or the Eambler, as a work of 
literary merit, it had merits of a high order, and is now re- 
membered with satisfaction as a first-fruit from the garden of 
our literature. The biographer of Mr. Buckminster, in speak- 
mg of this review, mentions the names of the principal con- 
tributors, and the general character of their articles. Wlien 
he reaches the name of Webster, he pauses long enough to pay 
him a special compliment : " Daniel Webster, from the rocky 
wiids of New Hampshire, enriched its pages with liis winged 
thoughts." It seems, therefore, that, at this early day, when he 
was but about twenty-five years of age, he had begun to be cel- 
ebrated as a writer ; and those " winged thoughts " were such, 
doubtless, as he has been sending out, for half a centuiy, into 
all parts of the earth, and which have been lighting down upon 
all men, in all departments of life, hovering over their memo- 
ries, and over their imaginations, with mysterious effect. 

As a specimen of his written style, at this period of his life, 
his Concord oration, delivered on the 4th of July, 1806, may 
be read with satisfaction. Though not a politician, perhaps not 
intending to be one, his mind naturally traveled out of his pro- 



]14 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

fession into the world, which was then filled with questions of 
a political character. Among them all, there was one question, 
which had formed a topic of juvenile inquiry, had gone and re- 
mained with him in the halls of college, and had come out of 
college with him as the topic of his daily meditations, and 
which was to constitute the great topic of his life. It was the 
constitution of his country, which he had first studied from his 
little handkerchief, by the side of his father and mother, and 
which he had continued to study with inci'easing interest from 
that day forward, to which his thoughts now turned ; and the 
particular point of inquiry, the point of special value, was the 
possibility, the probability, of its preservation. The matter of 
his thoughts, and. the style of their expression, are clearly dis- 
tinguished in his own words : " When we speak of preserving 
the constitution," says the }'oung orator, " we mean not the par 
per on which it is written, but the s-pirit which dwells in it. 
Government may lose all its real character, its genius, its tem- 
per, without losing its appearance. Kepublicanism, unless you 
guard it, will creep out of its case of parchment, like a snake 
out of its skin. You may have a despotism under the name of 
a republic. You may look on a government, and see it possess 
all the external modes of freedom, and yet find nothing of the es- 
sence, the vitality, of freedom in it ; just as you may contemplate 
an embalmed body, where art hath preserved proportion and 
form, amid nerves without motion, and veins void of blood." 

The oration, all of which ran very much in this style, and 
after this spirit, made a powerful impression on his audience, 
and was widely celebrated in New Hampshire. The newspa- 
pers of that state spoke of it in high terms : " We have sel- 
dom read," says one of them, " any production of this kind, 
which has contained more correct sentiments, expressed with so 
much felicity of fancy and purity of style. It is free from the 
rancorous colorings of party spirit, which are wholly inconsist- 
ent with tnse eloquence. If there is any foult in the style, it 



REMOV'ES TO PORTSMOUTH. 115 

is that the sentences, though not colloquial, are in general too 
sententious, and expressed with too much brevity for the flow 
of a public harangue." Ti-at is, though a young man of only 
twenty-five, he had too much thought for the number of his 
words ! 

In the month of September, 1807, after a residence of two 
years at Boscawen, where his health had become bad by se 
vere study, he removed to the city of Portsmouth, where, it 
was thought, he -would have less seclusion, and a more active 
and healthful manner of life. His practice, which had become 
good, though not lucrative, he relinquished to his brother Ez& 
kiel, who was just from college. The elder still followed in 
the footsteps of the younger. So true it is, that genius is more 
than years, giving a man precedence contrary to the estab 
lished laws of nature. 

In Portsmouth, which was then, as it is now, the chief com 
mercial city of the state, and distinguished for its good society, 
Mr. Webster entered into a field better corresponding to his 
talents. lie there met a number of lawyers, most of whom he 
had known before, but whom he was now to meet, in daily 
practice, face to face. Had he been himself a lawyer of no 
pretensions, so close a connection would not have greatly an- 
noyed him ; he could have lived in obscurity, in the shade of 
their overtowering reputations, thankful for the privilege of oc- 
casionally enjoying the benefit of their counsel ; but to go there 
and live upon their own ground, as an independent individual, 
to live there as theu* equal, to live there, perhaps, in spite of 
them, was a very different matter. It was a matter, however, 
that gave him no concern. He knew his own strength, though 
he was never vain of it ; and his position, his rights, were soon 
acknowledged. The oldest and ablest lawyers of the metrop- 
olis were glad to divide with him what they could not monop- 
olize. He was sought after, in fact, rather than repelled by 
them. Jeremiah Mason, and Jeremiah Smith, with other law- 

VOL. I. ^ 



116 ■VTEESTER AND HIS MASTEn-PIECES, 

yers of nearly their repute, received him with open arms; and 
a friendship was formed between them, which, without a day's 
interruption, lasted to the end of life. 

The reader may wish to know what was thought of Mr. 
Webster, at this time, by those qualified to render a sound 
judgment ; and it is fortunate that his reputation and character, 
as he was when he went to Portsmouth, have been given to 
the world by so competent a critic as Jeremiah Smith : " In 
single qualities," said Mr. Smith, " I have kno-svn men superior 
to Mr. Webster. Hamilton had more original genius, Ames 
greater quickness of imagination. Marshall, Parsons and Dex- 
ter were as remarkable for logical strength ; but in the union 
of high intellectual qualities, I have kno^^^a no man equal to 
Daniel Webster." Such was the opinion, which one great man 
had formed of another, who, at that time, had not made a sin- 
gle manifestation of all the power that was in him. 

For a year, or more, prior to this period, Mr. Webster had I 

been an occasional visitor to the house of the Rev. Elijah < 

Fletcher, of Hopkinton, a Congregational clergyman, who was 
known for his piety and the patronage he bestowed upon young 
men. The visits became more and more frequent, till, on the 
eleventh of June, 1808, the Portsmouth Oracle, a newspaper 
of that day, appeared with the brief announcement : " Married 
in Salisbury, Daniel Webster, Esq., of this town, to Miss Grace 
Fletcher." This is all that is said respecting the most, inter- 
esting event in the life of the greatest man of modern times. j 
Such is republican simplicity ! 

The Avife of Mr, Webster was one of three daughters, whose 
talents, accomplishments, and virtues were the joy of their 
father's house. Grace was particularly attractive, not only for 
her personal beauty, but for her acquirements, and still more 
for her amiable disposition. The three were all married in 
early life, one to a Mr. White, of Pittsfield, another to the Hon. 
Israel W. Kelley, of Salisbury, and the third to Mr. Webstei*, 



THE HAPPINESS OF ni3 LIFE. 117 

who, till the day of her untimely death, loved and honored her 
■with almost a devout affection. 

Now Mr. Webster was fairly settled in life. He was twen- 
ty^-SLX years of age, in impro-\nng health, well educated, happily 
married, a sound and thorough lawyer, and entering into an ex- 
tensive practice. Having many fi-iends, and no enemies, moral 
in his life, and by education religious in his sentiments, there 
was nothing around him, or before him, but happiness, useful- 
ness and honor. It was the most beautiful and blissful period 
of his life. It was the period to which he most often looked 
back, in after years, with that mellow and thoughtful cast of 
countenance, that always characterized his serenest meditations. 
More than once has he attempted to tell a friend how happy 
he then was ; how pure and peaceful his daily course ; how 
calm and contented his repose at night ; how satisfied he was 
with the moderate independence afforded him by his profession ; 
with what disrelish he looked out upon the din and confusion 
of the troubled world ; with what unspeakable delight, in the 
midst of what little fell to him of that world's noisy strife, he 
turned his eyes to his sweet home, where was the wife of his 
heart, where his thoughts and affections centered, and to which 
he trusted he might some day retreat from every worldly care, 
from every disturbing influence, to spend his best days in do- 
mestic quiet, with liis family and his books. ]\Iore than once, 
when the attempt has been made, and the picture has been half- 
drawn, has the tear run down his cheek, his lip quivered, his 
speech faltered, till his utterance became choked. 

Tliis portion of his life, however, was not constituted entirely 
of tender scenes and sentiments. Li the daily practice of his 
profession, he met with many things of a most amusing char- 
acter ; and, with all his constitutional gravit}", there was a vein 
of natural humor in him, as has been seen, that gave him the 
highest possible relish f()r what was genuinely ludicrous. Long 
years after this part of his career was passed, indeed, to tlie end 



118 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of life, he used to tell professional anecdotes connected with his 
stay in Portsmouth, which, while they never failed to amuse 
his hearers to the highest pitch, threw a flood of light on his 
personal history, and on the manners and customs of that early 
day : " Soon after commencing the practice of my profession 
at Portsmouth," said Mr. Webster once, when he happened to 
be in a story-telling mood, "I was waited on by an old ac- 
quaintance of my father's, resident in an adjacent county, who 
wished to engage my professional services. Some years previ- 
ous he had rented a fcrm, with the clear imderstanding, that he 
could purchase it, after the expiration of the lease, for one thou- 
sand dollars. Finding the farm productive, he soon deter 
mined to own it ; and, as he laid aside money for the purchase, 
he was prompted to improve .what he felt certain he would 
possess. But his landlord, seeing the property greatly in- 
creased in value, coolly refused to take the one thousand dol- 
lars, when in due time it was presented ; and, when his extor- 
tionate demand of double that sum was refused, he at once 
brought an action of ejectment. The man had but the one 
thousand dollars, and an unblemished reputation, yet I wil- 
Imgly undertook his case. 

" The opening argument of the plaintiff's attorney left me 
little ground for hope. He stated that he could prove that my 
client hired the farm, but that there was not a word in the 
lease about the sale, nor was there a word spoken about the sale 
when the lease was signed, as he should prove by a witness. 
Li short, it was a clear case ; and 1 left the court-room at din- 
ner time with feeble hopes of success. By chance, I sat at ta- 
ble by the side of a newly-comniissioned militia officer ; and a 
brother lawyer began to jolce him about his lack of martial 
knowledge. 'Indeed,' he jocosely remarked, 'you should \Arrite 

down the orders, and get old W to beat them into your 

sconce, as I saw him this morning, with a paper in his hand, 
teaching something to young M in the court-house entry.' 



POPCLARITr AS A LAWYER. 119 

" Can it be, thought I, that old W , the plauitiff in the 

case, was instructing young M , who was liis reliable 

witness 1 

" After dinner the court was reopened, and Isl was put 

upon the stand. lie was examined by the plaintiff's counsel ; 
and he certainly told a clear, plain story, repudiating all know- 
ledge of any agreement to sell. When he had concluded, the 
opposite counsel, with a triumphant glance, turned to me, and 
asked me if I was satisfied. ' Not quite,' I replied. 

"I had noticed a piece of paper protrudbig out of !M 's 

pocket, and, hastily approaching him, I seized it before he had 
the least idea of my intention. ' Now,' I asked, ' tell me if this 
paper does not detail the story you have so clearly told 1 And 
is it not false 1 ' The witness hung his head with shame ; and 
when the paper was found to be what I supposed, and in the 

very hand-wTiting of old W , the case was lost at once. 

Nay, there was such a storm of indignation agamst him, that 
he even removed to the West. 

"Years afterward, when visiting New Hampsire, I was the 
guest of my professional brethren at a public dinner ; and, 
toward the close of the festivities, I was asked if I would solve 
a great doubt by answering a question. ' Certamly.' ' Well, 
then, ]VIr. Webster, we have often wondered how you knew 
what was in M 's pocket ! '" 

During the four years next succeeding his marriage, Mr. 
Webster's popularity as a lawyer was constantly rising ; and, 
at the age of thirty, when most young men are satisfied if they 
have begun to establish a business, his reputation was higher 
tlian that of any lawyer in New Hampshire. Almost every 
advantage seemed to cener in him. Li the first place, his 
health had greatly improved ; his manly frame had put on a 
full, round form ; and he was justly celebrated, beyond any 
man of his time, for the combined dignity and beauty of his 
person. Then, intellectually, he had made daily advancement 



120 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

in every variety of knowledge ; he had studied, and thought, 
and written, almost incessantly ; all his mental fliculties were 
thoroughly awake ; and every effort he had made, "ttith tongue 
or pen, had been successful, giving him the invaluable prestige 
of never faiUng. But, what was even of more consequence, he 
had begun the world, not with a pure moral character merely, 
but with a name for everything noble, high and dignified ; he 
was supposed to be incapable of a low word, a mean act, or an 
unworthy prmciple ; he was looked to as a pattern of coiTect 
behavior, of sound worth, as well as of the most exalted talents ; 
and he seemed to be determined, in every act of his life, to 
maintain this lofty elevation. As a lawyer, even, he would do 
nothing, and say nothing, whatever might be the motives, that 
could in any way dishonor him. He laid it down as a rule of 
his professional life, that he would undertake no man's cause, 
without first assuring himself of its being, at least in all proba- 
bility, worthy of defense. He would defend no villain. Though 
a lawyer, and only a lawyer, he considered it his duty, and he 
made it his business, to defend the innocent, to help the needy, 
and to maintain the interests of society. The same elevated 
beaiing distinguished him when actually engaged at court. 
There was no tricking, no cunning, no pettifogging, in his argu- 
ments. Seizing hold of the strong points of his case, he urged 
them, and them only, with all the force of his masterly abili- 
ties, and with all the learning needful, but never with false, or 
garbled, or distorted quotations. The facts he stated were al- 
ways facts ; his authorities were real authorities, acknowledged 
by all good lawj^ers ; and the application he made of his cita- 
tions were always lair, legitimate, and to the point. In this 
way, he obtamed an overwhelming influence over courts and 
juries. They relied on his word ; and it is probably true, 
that, in many instances, his statements had as much to do with 
the verdict, as the testimony of the most reliable of his wit- 
nesses. He once said in court, that, sooner than he would de- 



HIS REPUTATION STILL RISING, 121 

liberately misstate a ftict, or knowingly misquote an authority, 
or dishonorably misapply a precedent, he would lose his case ; 
and the people everywhere, as well as the barristers and judges, 
believed him when he said it. It is no wonder, then, that such 
a man, with such principles of action, could carry all before 
him. It is no wonder, that his name was a tower of streiigth 
to his clients, giving them, almost certainly, the victory. It is 
no wonder, that, far and neax, Uut name took wing, going to 
every hamlet m his native state. The best critics about him 
had given their decision in his fiivor ; and the people, though 
not prepai-ed, perhaps, to give an enlightened judgment of their 
own, could easily believe what was so abundantly demonstra- 
ted by his success : 

"Applause 
Walts on snccesa. The fickle multitude, 
Like the light straw that floats along the stream, 
Glide with the current still, and follow fortune." 

In this manner, and precisely at this time, New England be- 
gan to hear of the name of Daniel Webster. We shall now 
see the first fruits of this popular reputation. 



/ 



CHAPTER VI. 

REPRESENTATIVE TO CONGRESS. 

It was not to be expected, in spite of his domestic spirit and 
his disrelish of the turmoil of public life, that a man born amidst 
the excitements of one war, and beginning the world at the 
opening of another, when every citizen was called to think and 
act, could keep himself entirely clear of politics. Mr, Web- 
ster, also, was not only a lawyer, but by education, by study, 
by the habit of his mind, a statesman. He was better in- 
formed respecting the histoiy, character, wants and prospects 
of the republic, than any man about him. His opinion was 
very likely to be looked for ; and, such was his manly indepen- 
dence, he was free to give it to every one that asked it. But 
when a man has given an opinion, he has something at stake ; 
and he is certain to defend himself, whenever he is called in 
question. Exactly in this way was Mr. Webster drawn into 
politics, which he had always shunned and dreaded. 

The leading political question of the day was that of the pol- 
icy, or impolicy, of the war with England ; and this was the 
immediate outgrowth of the war between England and the 
French republic. Bonaparte, springing from the bosom of the 
people, had gradually risen to such power as to j)ut under his 
feet the government of the people ; and on the ruins of this 
popular government he had erected an empire, which, in the 
pride of his ambition, he had resolved to make viniversal. hi 
the pursuit of tins grand design, in which he had intoxicated the 
French nation with the belief^ that his own aggrandizement and 



HE IS DRAWN INTO POLITICS. 123 

their glory were identical, he had subdued nearly every nation 
of Europe. England and Russia, for once made friends by 
their common danger, were almost the only exceptions, and 
really the sole barriers, to his European empire. Nearly all 
of the gi'eat powers, however, eitlier secretly or openly, had 
combined against him ; but, in the general sti'uggle, no one of 
them had given liim so much trouble as Great Britain. By 
land, he could cope, and had coped, with everything that could 
be brought against him ; but the English navy, then at the 
acme of its power, had taken from France most of her insu- 
lar possessions, and swept her sliipping from the seas. To ac- 
complish this result, England had been compelled to employ 
all her naval force, and to abandon almost entirely her foreign 
trade, on which she depended, of course, for the greater part of 
her breadstufFs in a time of peace, and for immensely mcreased 
agricultural supplies in a time of wai\ Her vast military es- 
tablishment, growing with every day's continuance of the war, 
had gradually dra^\•n so much upon the rural and manufactur- 
ing districts, had transfomied so many producers into Avasters, 
that the success of all her gigantic military efforts, if not the 
existence of the nation, seemed to depend on such stores as 
could be obtained from other lands. France, at the same time, 
shaken by internal revolutions for more than twenty years, and 
exhausted by a succession of the most bloody and most expen- 
sive foreign wars, had been compelled by degrees to call her 
jigricultural population to take ai-ms, and thus, like England, to 
tlu-ow herself upon other countries for a supply of bread. This, 
in a pecuniary point of view, was the harvest day for America, 
which, even then, could export more grain and flour than all 
Europe combined ; and it actually became the leading bus,iness 
of this country to carry food to the belligerent and hungry na- 
tions of the old world, and particularly to England and to 
France. Peace, therefore, to be maintained by a most positive 
neutrality, was evidently the best policy, the only good politics, 

VOL. I. r 



124 WKDSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of this country. Oiir people, and our politicians, had a right 
to remain, so far as their financial interests were concerned, 
cool and even calculating spectators of the European struggle, 
to enrich and strengthen their country at the expense of a gen- 
eral conflict which they could neither govern nor prevent. 

In every democratic country, however, the passions of the 
multitude, at a period of popular excitement, are more likely 
to get the ascendency, than the better judgment of tlie more 
sagacious and reflecting class of minds. It was so, in this coun- 
try, at that time, A few years before, England had been our 
enemy, and France our ally, in the most illustrious and impor- 
tant of modem wars. This was the first thing thought of by 
superficial men ; and this consideration alone had been sufticient, 
from the very opening of the French revolution, to carry the 
feelings of a large portion of our citizens to the side of France. 
This revolution of France, too, in its inception, with all its bar- 
barities and opposition to Christianity, had been called a demo- 
cratic movement ; and, as usual, thousands of the uninformed, 
honest and true-hearted as they were, had been cheated by a 
name. The third and perhaps the most powerfiil of the causes, 
that had thus worked together to create the public opinion of 
the United States, in relation to this subject, was the eflTorts 
made by a class of American infidels, led on by Thoinas Paine 
and favored by Thomas Jefferson, which, cooperating with 
Voltaire, and the French atheists, who were the high-priests of 
the French democracy, in their attempt to overthrow the church 
of France, expected in this way to begin the overthrow of 
Christianity in every land. In this manner, and chiefly for these 
reasons, dui-ing all the wars of the French Directory, and in 
the midst of the wars of Bonaparte, a majority of the Ameri- 
can people had given their sympathies to France. 

Bonaparte, waxuig hotter in his hatred to England, as the 
final contest between him and her drew more near at hand, see- 
ing her dependence upon foreign countries, and chiefly upon 




EUROPEAN POLITICS. 125 

this country, for her supplies of food, resolved to cut off those 
supplies at a single stroke, and thus starve her into a submis- 
sion which he had not been able to compel by force of arms. 
AVhile at the city of Berlin, in the midst of his victories of the 
German -war, he issued a decree, which blockaded all the ports 
of England, but opened wider than ever, to the shipping of all 
nations, excepting England and her allies, the ports of France. 
This, though aimed at Great Britain, was a still heavier blow 
against the United States ; and it was clearly the policy of the 
United States to jom with England m repelling an attack, which, 
in a business point of view, gave to the two countries a com- 
mon cause. 

England, however, had given to our people a very grave ot 
fence. Her seamen, weary of the long war, or envious of the 
rich gains of the peaceful commerce of our merchantmen, had 
been deserting the English navy, and entering into the Ameri- 
can trade, in large numbers ; and the sea-faring population of 
Great Britain, who had had no connection with the British mar- 
itime service, had numerously followed this example. England, 
alai-med at these desertions from her navy, and equally alarmed 
at the loss of so many of that class of her people, from which 
her navy, in any emergency, was to be supplied, saw no other 
alternative, than to pass laws, and send out orders to her naval 
officers, to reclaim all such of her refugee citizens, and compel 
them to retiun to their allegiance, wherever they might be 
found. Such laws had been passed ; but their execution, easy 
in respect to nations speaking other languages and marked by 
different costumes and maimers, was exceedingly difficult in i-e- 
lation to our own ; and the result often was, without doubt, 
with all the care possible in such a case, that hundreds if not 
thousands of American citizens, mistaken for Englishmen in 
disguise, were thus taken from their own vessels and thrust into 
the English men-of-war. Tliough the English government of- 
fered to return every American citizen thus abducted, whose 



126 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECEg. 

citizenship could be proved, the haters of England, those 
cheated by the French use of the word democracy, and the 
American infidels, constituting the republican or democratic 
party in the days of Jefferson, overlooking the sublime position 
of Great Britain at that time, as the great and last bulwark of 
Christianity, overlooking the extinction of everything demo- 
cratic in France under the imperial ambition of Bonaparte, and 
secretly favoring the infidels of America, whose success, it was 
supposed, would tend to widen the distance in our government 
between church and state, were willing enough to brook the in- 
sult and the injury of the Berlin decree, but took fire at once 
against England for her attempt, carelessly executed, it is con- 
fessed, to recover the services of her own citizens in a time of 
uncommon need. 

Actuated by such motives, the party in power, under the ad- 
mmisti'ation of Jefferson, instead of going forward to keep up 
our lucrative commerce with Great Britain, and with her allies, 
in spite of the French embargo, which France had not navy 
enough to enforce against us, or agamst any other nation at 
peace with England, had sent an ambassador to Paris and be- 
come the ally of France. They had taken the weaker and the 
wicked side, when the material welfare of their country, and a 
just regard for the cause of morality and religion throughout 
the world, in a word, when duty and interest both, had de- 
manded the utmost stretch of charity toward England, in her 
day of embarrassment and peril, since that very peril she was 
suffering not more for herself, than for the highest and holiest 
mterests of mankind. Not daring, however, in a manly way, 
if war with England was right and just, to make an open dec- 
laration of war, and meet the enemy ujdou an open sea, in a weak 
and cowardly manner, they had laid a second embargo, an 
American embargo, on American shipping, not only forbidding 
ti-ade with England, which trade France most desired should 
be forbidden, but with all the rest of the world, thus at the 



EUROPEAN POLITICS CONTINUED, 127 

same time helping Bonaparte in his effort of annihilatmg Great 
Britain at a cost little less than ruinous to ourselves. Our soil, 
it is true, remained fertile, and could give us the necessaries of 
existence ; but the great surplus of produce, on which we de- 
pended, through our flourishing commerce, for the comforts and 
the elegancies of life, and for the means of developing the hid- 
den resources of our country, had been allowed to perish in our 
fields. Wheat had fiillen in a day from the price of two dol- 
lars per bushel to that of seventy cents ; and the whole land, 
whiie aiding a traitor to republicanism m an attempt to break 
do^^•n the best government of the best people, next to our own, 
on the flice of the earth, had been bereft of its business, its pol- 
icy, and its power. 

Immediately upon this, England, still struggling for her ex- 
istence against the great aspirant to universal dominion, and 
seeing no other way of meeting the force of the Berlin decree, 
had published her celebrated orders in council, which, in sub- 
stance, were another embargo, which blockaded against all na- 
tions the ports of France ; but m the execution of these orders, 
still looking ^^^th a friendly eye upon the United States, as the 
natural ally of the great Anglo-Saxon and Protestant power of 
Europe, England had treated our shipping with a favor, which 
she had denied to all the commerce of the world. Publishing 
her orders suddenly, after a lengthy but seci-et deliberation, 
she had permitted all American vessels, then m her ports, to 
leave peaceably with their cargoes, and had given directions to 
her naval commanders, in every part of the globe, to allow our 
merchantmen quietly to return home. 

In this state of things had the country been left, at the expi- 
ration of Jefferson's second term ; and when his successor, Mr. 
JSIadison, had come into the presidency, he had seen so much ■ 
e%il to our commerce, and consequently to our agriculture, and 
to all the business of our hitherto thriving population, flowing 
from this policy that he had been, at the begimiing of his pros- 



128 WEBSTER AND HI8 MASTER-PIECES. 

idential career, favorable to a repeal of the embargo, and a 
fi'iend to more peaceful measures. But his party, heterogene- 
ous and yet united, could not be controlled by a weak, a hesita- 
ting, a timorous man. Madison was borne on, by the force of 
party feeling, through four vornN of irresolution and fear ; but 
when he had approached the termination of his first term, he 
had seen no way of maintaining his position with his partisans, 
and of retaining his high office for four years longer, but to 
smother his convictions and his conscience, and rush forward to 
a still more "entangling alliance" with Napoleon, the end of 
which, as every one could see, and as he had plainly seen and 
confessed, would be a second war with England. 

That war, indeed, soon came ; and it was at the time of its 
declaration, in 1812, that Mr. Webster, in the manner hereto- 
fore described, had been compelled, by the demands of his fel- 
low-citizens, and by the wants of a distracted country, to utter 
his opinions, and to enter into the internal conflict of the nation. 
What those opinions were, or what special part he took, and 
continued to bear, in the conflict, he has left; no room to 
doubt. 

In the first place, he was opposed to the embargo, and to 
the policy that dictated the embargo, because he regarded it as 
an indirect but effectual mode of aiding the ambition of Bona- 
parte in rootir.g out or trampling down the last remains of the 
originally genuine democracy of France, and of setting up a 
bitter though splendid tyranny in its place. He was opposed » 
to this policy, because it was giving equal succor to the same 
man in his unprovoked attacks upon the governments of Eu- 
rope, and especially upon Protestant Great Britain, v/hich the 
aspirant looked upon with the deepest hatred, and which he 
was determined, as the master-piece and conclusion of his bloody 
career, to blot from the map of nations. He was opposed to 
this policy, because, while it strengthened France and weak- 
ened England, it destroyed our own commerce, cast a blight 



I 



HIS FIRST POLITICAL SPEECH. 129 

upon our agriculture by shutting off our markets, and thus com- 
pletely paralyzed the business of the country. He was oppo- 
sed to this policy, also, and was warm in his opposition, be- 
cause, as he saw it, and as others saw it, it was a powerful sup- 
port to the rampant infidelity of the French atheists, who, in 
their msdness, had declared the scriptures to be a fraud, Chris- 
tianity a lie, the Almighty a fiction, and Jesus Chi"ist an im- 
postor and a -OTetch. This infidelity, indeed, had been the 
original and exciting cause of the French Revolution, which, in 
its turn, had opened the way for the ambition of Bonaparte, 
who now looked upon the people of the United States as his 
ally against their own republican principles, against their kin- 
dred, their religion, and their God. 

The particular occasion, which drew Mr. Webster out into 
the arena of politics, has been described, by a class-mate of his 
brother : '• The first halo of political glory, that hung around 
his brow, was at a convention of the great spirits in the county 
of Rockingham, where he then resided, and such representatives 
from other counties as were sent to this convention, to take into 
consideration the state of the nation, and to mark out such a 
course for themselves as should be deemed advisable by the 
collected wisdom of those assembled. On this occasion, an ad- 
dress, with a string of resolutions, were proposed for adoption, 
of which he was said to be the author. They exhibited uncom- 
mon powers of intellect and a profound knowledge of our na- 
tional interests. He made a most powerful speech in support 
of these resolutions, portions of which were reprinted at the 
time, and which were much admired in every part of the 
Union." The speech is lost, but it is still remembered in Ports- 
mouth, that, from the moment of its delivery, Mr. Webster 
was at once acknowledged as the first man of the city, and the 
leading spirit of New Hampsliire. 

Tliese popular assemblies were frequent ; they everywhere 
demanded the attendance of Mr. Webster ; and though all the 



130 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

public speeches delivered by him, at this period, are gone be- 
. yond recovery, one of them was listened to by an intelligent 
traveler, who has given of it a very readable description : 
" His carriage was brought to the door, and he was about to 
get into it, when the hostler said, ' Sir, are you going to leave 
town 1 Mr. Webster is to speak to-night.' Finding all classes 
so delighted that Mr. Webster was going to speak, he ordered 
his horses to the stable, and put off his journey till the morrow. 
At early candle-light, he went to the hall, where the meeting 
was to be held. It was filled to overflowing, but some per- 
sons, seeing him to be a stranger, gave way ; and he found a 
convenient place to stand. No one could sit. A tremendous 
noise soon announced that the Drator himself had arrived ; but 
as soon as the meeting was organized, another rose to make 
some remarks on the object of the meeting. He was heard 
with a polite apathy. Another, and yet another came ; and all 
spoke well ; but this would not do ; and if Chatham himself 
had been among them, or St. Paul, they would not have met 
the expectations of the multitude. The admired orator at 
length arose, and was for a while musing upon something, 
which was drowned by a constant cheering ; but when order 
was restored, he went on with great serenity and ease to make 
his remarks, without apparently making the slightest attempt 
to gain applause. The audience was still, except now and then 
a murmur of delight, which showed that the great mass of the 
hearers were ready to burst into a thunder of applause, if those 
who generally set the example would have given an intima- 
tion, that it might have been done ; but they, devouring every 
word, made signs to prevent any interruption. The harangue 
was ended ; the roar of applause lasted long, and was sincere 
and heart-felt. It was a strong, gentlemanly, and appropriate 
speech ; but there was not a particle of the demagogue about 
it — nothing like the speeches on the hustings to catch atten- 
tion. He drew a picture of the candidates, on both sides of 



i 



A CANDIDATE FOR OFFICE, 131 

the question, aiid proved, as far as reason and argument could 
prove, the superiority of those of his own choice." Next day, 
the traveler went on his journey, and found to his surprise, 
that, though there was then no telegraph, the fame of the 
speech had everywhere preceded him. 

It was at this election, during the month of November, 1812, 
after the war had been declared by the Madison congress 
against England, that Mr. "Webster first suffered himself to be 
brought forward as a candidate for office. He had been soli- 
cited before; but he had invariably and positively declined. 
Now, however, there seemed to' be a crisis, a crisis in the af- 
fairs of the whole nation. The two great measures, which had 
been carried through by the democratic party, the embargo 
and the war, had brought the Union to the brink of a dissolu- 
tion. New England, which scarcely had a business, or any 
means of self-support, when she was taken from the sea, though 
loyal to the constitution and the Union, indulged the feelings 
toward the administration, and toward the measures of the ad- 
ministration, which a hungry population are likely to have 
acainst those who make them starve : and the southern States, 
which depended on New England shipping to carry their sugar, 
then- cotton, their tobacco, and their rice to market, and to 
bring back to the producei's such commodities as were abso- 
lutely necessaiy in the working of their plantations, and for the 
comfort of their homes, went so far beyond their New En- 
gland brethren as to talk of opposition to the general govern- 
ment. Both sections were opposed to the war ; and many of 
tlie federal party were so violently against it, as to withdraw 
from it their support even after it had been declared. Web- 
ster, though sympathizing with the opposition, and regarded 
as a member of the federal party, would not desert the coun- 
try, nor the cause of the country, though he certainly looked 
upon the war with no favoring eye. Since war had been de- 
clared, congress, he maintained, and the people, ought to sus- 

voL. I. F* 9 



132 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

tain it as long as it must continue ; but an honorable peace, he 
likewise maintained, should be accepted as soon as it should be 
offered, and offered as soon as there should be a possibility of 
its being accepted. Peace he regarded as the organic policy 
of this country ; and he saw no good reason why England, then 
.struggling for her life against an atheistical and imperial tyr- 
anny, which was now finally supported by the pope and by the 
papal church, should not be eager to tenninate, in a manner 
honorable to both countries, a needless, a volimtary, and an 
unnatural war, against a people speaking the same language, 
cherishing the same customs, boasting of the same principles, 
and serving by the same worship the same God. 

Standing thus between the extremes of both parties, he ap 
peared before the citizens of his district as a candidate for the 
lower house of congress ; and the result showed, that, though 
he had been manly enough to stand alone, at the very begin- 
ning of Ms career, when weak minds are always the most sec- 
tarian and violent in their zeal, his reputation at home, his abil- 
ities, and his exertions had been sufficient to conquer his own 
party, and to rout the ultra-partisans of the administration on 
their chosen field. The people, trusting in his honesty and tal- 
ents, rallied round him ; and, aff:er a spirited canvass, he and his 
entire ticket were tiiumphantly elected. 

According to the established custom, in a time of peace, Mr. 
Webster would not have taken his seat at Washington before 
the month of December of the succeeding year; but there was 
now a war upon the hands of the administration ; and the pre- 
sident called an extra sassion to be opened in the month of 
May. Early in that month, therefore, after spending the whole 
winter in studying and reviewing the condition of the country, 
and preparing himself for his new duties, he left; Portsmouth 
for the captital of the nation. His journey he has often de- 
scribed for the amusement of the private circle ; and his ac- 
count never failed to create convulsions of laughter among the 



I 



REPRESENTATIVE TO CONGRESS. 133 

gravest of his auditors. How he went fi'om Portsmouth to 
Boston in an old mail coach, at the rate of four miles the hour ; 
how he rumbled and jerked along from Boston over to Hart- 
ford ; how, from Hartford, he " worked his passage " round bj 
land, a long and weary way, first to New Ha\en, and then to 
New York city ; how he progressed, day after day, through the 
state of New Jersey, stopping a night with Governor Stockton, 
where they talked over the prospect of one day making por- 
tions of the trip by water; how he made his way into Phila- 
delphia in a big wagon, and thence to Baltimore, and from 
Baltimore to Washington, through many perils ; and how, af- 
ter nearly two weeks of laborious travel, he found himself, on 
the 24th of IMay, at the seat of government, in no plight to 
stand before the assembled wisdom of the nation — all these 
things he would picture out, as no other man, in his day, could 
picture anything. The classic reader may have wondered, pro- 
bably, how the Greek poet could have made so long, so com- 
plicated, so rich and beautiful an epic, out of a mere voyage of 
a few hundred miles from Troy to Italy. It is not the amount 
of materials, however, that decides what can be said by a man 
of genius ; and no man, not even Homer, could make more 
amusement, or more insti'uction, out of such matter as hap- 
pened to fall to him, than Daniel Webster. No person, who 
never heard him tell an anecdote, can rciilize what an amount 
of merriment he was accustomed to draw out of his first trip 
to Washington. 

The young representative of New Hampshire mightwell think 
of his personal appearance, when about to talce his place as a 
member of the memorable war congress. He had never been 
a member of a legislative body. He had never held a public 
office. He had leaped over all the steps, which ordinary men 
have to take, in their ascent to high positions, and found a seat in 
the supreme council of his country. He was to meet there 
men, whose fame was as wide as the Union, and whose talents 



134 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECE9. 

were respected, in other countries. It is ?aid, however, by those 
who remember the day, that, in spite of the imposing novelty 
of the scene, in spite of his comparative youth and inexperi- 
ence, when he first entered the hall, he walked as calmly, as 
unhesitatingly, and with as much dignity and seltpossession, as 
he ever did in those days when he was the acknowledged prince 
of congress. The truth is, he was a prince, and more than a 
prince, by nature ; and his whole aspect, and every movement, 
were the noble and dignified expression of a noble and digni- 
fied mind. 

Though his first appearance, and the mamier of his entrance, 
are thus remembered by a single witness or two, who knew 
something of him, to the majority of the members, and to 
nearly all of them, he entei-cd there a perfect stranger. The 
old members were well acquainted with each other ; but the 
New Hampshire representative was a new member, and they 
did not know him. His name they may have seen in the elec- 
tion returns, or in the printed lists in the metropolitan newspa- 
pers ; but the name, at that time, carried nothing with it, either 
personal or historical, to attract notice. All that it now means, 
in law, in politics, in congress, throughout the country, and over 
the face of the civilized world, and especially wherever the 
English language is spoken or read, has since been added to it. 
What it now meant was simply that it was the name of a young 
man who had come to the lower house from a certain locality 
in New Hampshire. The person, however, who bears the un- 
known name, is now among them. He is one of them. He 
meets, there, it is true, a few old friends, and, among the rest, 
his special fi:iend, Governor Gore, of Boston ; but the governor, 
tliough proud of his distinguished pupil, and ready enough to 
give him introduction, is too discreet a man, though he had pro- 
nounced a eulogy and a prophecy of liim on a previous occa- 
sion, and at a very proper time, to pronounce any eulogies, or 
to utter any prophecies, at this time. He leaves Iiim to make 



ON THE COMMITTEE OF FOREIGK RELATIONS. 135 

his own introduction, and his own impression, in his own time 
and Avay, but certainly with a secret anticipation of a great day, 
and of a heart-felt joy, whenever that introduction, and that 
impression, should chance to come. Tliat the time would come, 
for the fulfillment of his own prophecy, and that before the 
members would be prepared, the governor felt perfectly as- 
sured ; but ^^■hen, or in what manner, could hardly be divined 
from what was seen of the young man on that day. There he 
sits, in his own seat, quietly though not carelessly, giving such 
attention to the opening business of the house, as only a great 
mind, full of strong thoughts and conscious of power, can give. 
Some are constantly getting up from their seats, and sitting 
do'wn again, in a restless anxiety, or because their heads have 
nothing in them weighty enough to hold them down. Otlicrs, 
all over the hall, are starting little motions, followed by 
little speeches, by which ordinary minds expect to acquire a 
sort of prominence, and all the prominence they can expect, at 
the opening of such assemblies. Others, not so quick at this 
sort of gaming, but eager in their own way, are moving about 
among the members, ostensibly as very social and well-mean- 
ing gentlemen, but really picking up from the fraternity a little 
private capital for private purposes. When the hammer of 
the clerk comes down, and the call is made to cast the votes for 
speaker, on the decision of which question hang an unknown 
number of little private expectations, and perhaps as many pri- 
vate promises, the fulfillment of which are the sole or main re- 
liance of many a dandiprat politician, for the entire coming ses- 
sion, there is something of a sensation, and many a little cloud 
of anxiety may be seen on the faces of many of the members. 
The young representative from New Hampshire, however, still 
keeps quiet in his seat ; and none of these dapper little states- 
men trouble him with their attentions, because none of them 
chance to know him. As the ballots are being collected, which 
will shortly decide who is to be the speaker, the second great 



136 TTEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES.. 

question is busily discussed in loud whispers, as to the per- 
sons who are to fill, under this speakership, or under that, the 
committee of foreign relations, which, in a time of war, is the 
first committee of the house. The ballots are now collected ; 
they are counted ; and it is announced that Henry Clay, then 
somewhat noted as the rising orator of Kentucky, is elected 
speaker. In a short time afterwards, a time short enough to 
show that the speaker's mind has been made up beforehand, 
with the others the leading committee is announced, which em- 
braces the names of Calhoun, Grundy, Jackson, Fish, and the 
elder Ingersoll, all of them men of the first position ; and 
among these names, well known to every representative, and 
to all the country, the new members read, many of them for 
the first time, perhaps, in this august fellowship, the name of 
one Daniel Webster, of New Hampshire. 

This, certainly, would be generally considered, and has been 
often spoken of, as a most auspicious beginning for the first day 
of a long public life ; but it is this very circumstance, this promis- 
ing first-day, that has raised against Mr. Webster the most del- 
eterious political reproach, which his opponents have uttered 
against him as a public character. It is laid up against him as 
proof of his political inconstancy. It is said, and said with 
great emphasis, that he was appointed to this committee by 
Mr, Clay, the leader of the war movements in the lower house, 
as a friend to the w\ir, as a fi-iend to the Madison administra- 
tion, but that, having secured the prominence he wanted, or not 
being able to secure it, in the face of Mr. Clay's popularity, he 
turned over and became a violent enemy of both. This charge, 
however, is utterly unfounded and untrue. Mr. Webster was 
never a friend of the war. and never a friend of the ]\Iadison 
administration, or of the Madison policy, before his election to 
congress, or after it. His position was clearly this, that, while 
he was opposed to the war in itself, he felt bomid to stand by 
the country, after the war had been declared, and to carry both 



ON' WHAT TERMS APPOINTED. 137 

the country and the war safely through. War had been dc- 
dared by congress ; the declaration had become the law of the 
land ; he was bound, as every good citizen was bound, and par- 
ticularly as every representative of the people was under spe- 
cial obligation, to obey and carry out the law while it remained 
a law ; but, it cannot be forgotten, it cannot be denied, that, 
from first to last, Mr. Webster was the leading advocate of 
peace, of seeking and of making peace with England, so sooa 
as peace could be obtained on right terms. He was, therefore, 
both a war man and a peace man at the same time, each ■with- 
out ambiguity, and both without contradiction. He was oj>- 
posed to the declaration of war against Great Britain ; but he 
was a friend to his country, as he was always a friend to it, 
whether in war or peace. He stood by her in hei' troubles, 
even when they were brought upon her by those whose posi- 
tions and policy he opposed. 

On these terms, thei'efore, and in this sense, !Mr. Webster was 
a fi'iend to the war, which he found on the hands of the Madison 
administration, when lie entered congress ; and it was as such a 
friend, and no other, that he was put into the war committee, 
the committee of foreign affairs, by Mr, Clay. Mr. Clay and 
the administration soon learaed, however, that the member 
from New Hampshire was not a man to be influenced impro- 
perly by his position, or by a gift of place. His associates of 
the committee learned the same fact in an equally short space 
of time ; for, on taking his seat with the committee, after the 
older members had pretty freely expressed their several views, 
and had as freely conceded, as a matter not to be debated, that 
the war was right, Mr. Webster wished to be informed di- 
rectly and distinctly the ground on which the war had been de- 
clared, " He had heard a great many grounds stated," he said, 
" but he desired to know exactly what was the ti-ue ground, the 
precise point on which the administration relied, and on which 
the country was then and ever afterwards to rely, as the actual 



138 WEBSTER AN"D HIS MASTER-PIECE3. 

casus belli, as the sufficient reason and cause of the declara- 
tion." This, certainly, was like ]\Ir, Webster. It was going 
to the bottom of his business at the outset ; but it was soon 
discovered, that it was easier to ask the question than to an- 
swer it. A great deal of explanation, of opinion, of discussion, 
as any one may imagine, must have ensued ; but it was finally 
agi'eed, by a general concurrence of the members, that the 
great fact, which gave a basis to the war with England, was her 
orders in council, by which she laid an embargo on the French 
ports, and reclaimed her seamen and citizens, who had de- 
serted her in her time of need. This did not entirely satisfy 
Mr. Webster. The claim set up to a sort of ownership of her 
seamen and subjects, he regarded as c«ie of those points in the 
law of nature, which had not been sufficiently determined and 
settled in the law of nations ; the leading nations of the earth 
had not been uniform m their practice respecting it ; the ma- 
jority of them, however, had been in the habit of setting up 
some such claim ; and there was, therefore, so far as this point 
was concerned, Mr, Webster thought, a fit subject for deliljer- 
ate study, for a more definite understanding among rftitions, and 
for a deeper and even final diplomatic investigation and ar- 
rangement by this country and Great Britain. His own opinion 
was, however, that the claim of England was not v/ell founded. 
He thought that the citizen of any country had a right, at his 
own option, and m his o^^■n time, to transfer his allegiance, his 
citizenship, to another country. That was the citizen's right by 
the law of nature. It was a right growing out of what we, in 
this country, have established as the great right of personal lib- 
erty and independence. This latter right, however, was not es- 
tablished, was not acknowledged, and never had been acl<nowl- 
edged, in the countries of Eiu'ope. It had not been acknowl 
edged in Great Britain ; and Mr. Webster, though ready lo 
make it a question, and a question not to be avoided or eva- 
ded, between us and England, until it should be settled, was 



I 



STARTS GREAT QUESTIONS. 139 

slow tx) regard it as a sufficient justification for a hasty war 
with a kindred people, whose language, whose laws, whose re- 
ligion, whose national interests, were almost identical with our 
own. He honestly and firmly believed, that England, so soon 
as she should be fi'ee fi"om the danger that impended ovei her 
existence, would see it to be her interest, and would be willing, 
not only to settle the claim on a just and satisfactory basis, but 
give us ample satisfaction for every instance in which, to our 
detriment, it had been abused. Lt one well known case, and 
in several not so generally understood, she had already done 
so ; and Mr. Webster argued, that this country might have 
charitably presumed, for the time at least, till the momentous 
European struggle of national existence against usurpation 
should be over, upon a continuance of a similar disposition, 
until the contrary should be established by sufficient evidence. 

This, however, was only one branch of Mr. Webster's argu- 
ment. There was another equally truthful, equally cogent, and 
still more troublesome to meet. America had declared war 
against England, because England had passed her orders in 
council, and blockaded the ports of France. But France, it 
was urged by Mr. Webster, had done the same thing, and waa 
the original transgressor. England had passed her oi'ders only 
in self-dcfexse. If a war was to be declared against England, 
therefore, why had not one been declared before, or at the same 
time, against France 1 France, too, had lijJlowed up her Ber- 
lin decree by another and a worse one dated at Milan. Why 
had not these produced a declaration of war by the United 
States 1 This question Mr. Webster urged upon the commit- 
tee ; and it was replied that the French decrees had been ro- 
voked. But when, at what particular time, had they been re- 
voked ? This question brought after it a difficulty. The com- 
mittee could not tell. The date of the revocation was April 
28th, 1811 ; it had been handed to our minister at Paris, it 
was said, and sent to the French minister at Washington, but 



140 ■WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECi:9. 

had not been communicated to our government till the month 
of May, 1812. There was a mystery hi the whole pi'oceeding. 
The proceedmg looked very much like a fraud. There seemed 
to be a good chance to doubt, that an instrument of such im- 
portance could have been left; to lie in the drawers of the Amer- 
ican minister at Paris, or in those of the French minister at 
Washington, as though it had been an almost useless roll of paper, 
which it was only necessary to preserve. Had not the docu- 
ment, which had been really and officially presented to the 
United States, in the month of May, 1812, been dated back- 
ward by the French government to the 28th of April, 1811 ? 
And had not the administration, to excuse its declaration of war 
against England, while it remained at peace with France, been 
a party to this contrivance ? As to that, Mr, Webster could 
not telL The committee could not inform him. So, detei'- 
mined not to take a step until he should know on what he was 
to stand, or on what was to be his reliance for a foothold, he 
resolved to appeal from the committee to the house, and 
through the house to the administration, for some light upon 
this mysterious subject. Therefore, on the 10th of June, 1813, 
after he had been a member of congress about two weeks, he 
rose in his place, and moved a series of resolutions, which went 
to the bottom of the whole subject, and -which took the mem- 
bers by surprise. The resolutions were the following : 

" Resolved^ That the j^resident of the United States be re- 
quested to inform the house, unless the public interest should, 
in his opinion, forbid such communication, when, by whom, and 
in what manner the first intelligence was given to this govern- 
ment of the decree of the government of France, bearing date 
the 28th of April, 1811, and purporting to be a definitive re- 
peal of the decrees of Berlin and Milan. 

" Resolved, That the president of the United States be re- 
quested to inform this house, whether Mr. Russell, late cliarg€ 
cf affaires of the United States at the court of France, hath 



BASIS OF HIS FIRST SPEECH. 141 

ever admitted or denied to this government the correctness of 
the declaration of the Duke of Bassano to Mr. Barlow, the late 
minister of the United States at that court, as stated in Mr. 
Barlow's letter of the 12th of May, 1812, to the secretary of 
state, that the said decree of April 28th, 1811, had been com- 
municated to his (Mr. Barlow's) predecessor there ; and to lay 
before this house any correspondence re]ati\'e to that subject, 
which it may not be improper to communicate ; and also any 
correspondence between Mr. Barlow and Mr. Russell on that 
subject, which may be in the possession of the department of 
state. 

" Resolved^ That the president of the United States be re- 
quested to inform tliis house, whether the minister of France 
near the United States ever informed this government of the 
existence of the said decree of the 28th of April, 1811, and to 
lay before the house any correspondence that may have taken 
place with the said minister relative, thereto, which the presi- 
dent may not think improper to be communicated. 

" Resolved, That the president of the United States be re- 
quested to communicate to this house any other information 
which may be in his possession, and which he may not deem 
injurious to the public interest to disclose, relative to the said 
decree of the 28th of April, 1811, and tending to show at what 
time, by whom, and in what manner the said decree was first 
made known to this goverrnnent or to any of its representa- 
tives or agents. 

" Resolved, That the president be requested, in case the fact 
be, that the first information of the existence of said decree of 
the 28th of April, 1811, ever received by this government, or 
any of its ministers or agents, was that communicated in May, 
1812, by the Duke of Bassano to jSIr. Barlow, and by him to 
his government, as mentioned in his letter to the secretary of 
state, of May 12, 1812, and the accompanying papers, to in- 
form this house whether the government of the United States 



142 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

hath ever received from that of France any explanation of the 
reasons of that decree being concealed from this government 
and its ministers for so long a time after its date ; and, if such 
explanation has been asked by this government, and has been 
• omitted to be given by that of France, -whether this govern- 
ment has made any remonstrance, or expressed any dissatisfac- 
tion, to the government of France, at such concealment." 

Such were Mr. Webster's resolutions. The reading of them, 
and the defense made of them, were the occasion of the first 
words he ever uttered in the halls of congress. A weaker man 
would have taken up, for the first time, some popular or trivial 
topic, which would have given him the opportunity of introdu- 
cing himself to the notice of the country. Mr. Webster, on 
the other hand, stood up there, single and alone, a young and 
inexperienced man, but a man conscious of his power, to call 
the country to account at the bar of its own sober judg- 
ment. He called upon the administration to tell the people, 
and to tell the world, why it had gone to war with England, 
while it remained at peace with France. He called upon the 
administration to inform the people, whether its apology, that 
France had revoked her decrees before war had been declared, 
was a well-founded apology, or a piece of conspiracy between 
Bonaparte and itself. He called upon the administration to say, 
in so many words, whether the revocation had not been dated 
backward by France with its own connivance or consent, that 
an apparent apology might be furnished, or whether the revo- 
cation had not been bought of France by the pledge of a dec- 
laration of war against England by the United States, which 
revocation was to be a dead letter, a brutum fuhnen, until the 
pledge should be redeemed, and which pledge the administration 
had found it impossible to redeem, or to bind itself positively 
to redeem, till a year after the date of the revocation, for which 
this price was promised to be paid. In case it should appear, 
as Mr. Webster suspected, that the administration had never 



I 



I 



INTRODUCTION TO THE SPEECH. 143 

« 

heard of the revocation, till i\Iay 12, 1812, just before the dec- 
laration, he called upon the administration to convict itself still 
farther by being compelled to say, while it had declared war 
against England for steps taken in self-defense, Avhether it had 
even so much as remonstrated against the French decrees, 
which were the original and much the more aggravated trans- 
gression against our interests and rights, hi truth, he was de- 
termined, in this direct and legitimate way, to compel the ad- 
ministration to make confession, either of an unnatural and 
fraudulent conspiracy with France against England, or of an 
equally unnatural and fraudulent partiality, in the face of every 
good reason for an opposite partiality, for the imperial, infidel, 
bloody, ambitious and unscrupulous government of France. 

This, certainly, was a very bold step for any man to take ; 
but it was far bolder, almost hazardous, for a young and un- 
practiced man, w^ho had taken the floor for the fu'st time, and 
had been a member but about half a month. !Mr. Webster, 
however, though by no means vain of his abilities, perfectly 
knew himself He knew that it would give him no trouble, 
scarcely any imeasiness, to stand up there and explain the rea- 
sons why he sought the uiforraation required ; and that, as he 
understood the case, having no thought of oratory, or of elo- 
quence, was all that he had to do. This he did do, and that 
with a clearness, a directness, a power, which the oldest man 
there had never heard surpassed. ^Vhen he began to speak, 
the members prepared themselves to listen, at least during the 
introduction, with that charity and respect which they were ac- 
customed to pay to a new member ; but the introduction was 
too brief to give them time for all the respect due on such an 
occasion, and too pertinent to admit of their letting go oH the 
speaker without farther notice : Mr. Weljster rose, as he 
said, " to call the attention of the House to a subject of consid- 
erable importance — a task which he hoped would have fallen 
into the hands of some other gentleman better qualified than 



144 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

himself to undertake it." Tliis single remark, followed by the 
reading of the resolutions, constituted his exordium. " hi offer- 
ing these resolutions," said the speaker, as he took up the sub- 
ject, " it was not liis intention to enter into any discussion or ar- 
gument, or to advance any proposition whatever, on which 
gentlemen could adopt different views, or take different sides. 
He would merely remark, by way of explanation, what would 
be remembered by all, that the subjects to which these resolu- 
tions referred, were intimately connected with the cause of the 
present war, Tlie revocation of the orders in council of Great 
Britain was the main point on which the war turned ; and it 
had been demanded for the reason that the French decrees had 
ceased to exist." This brief statement, in the language of the 
rhetoricians, was the substance of the exposition, or explication, 
of his subject. Then came the narration of facts, necessary to 
be had clearly in the mind in order to a feir view of the great 
topic ; and in tliis particular part of an oration, Mr. Webster 
never had his superior, and America never saw his equal. A 
full report of the speech has not been preserved ; but, judging 
from the few notes taken at the time, and from what is well 
known of Mr. Webster's manner, the historical statement was 
not only to the point but brief and simple. The az-gument of 
the speech then came, and then a brief but powerful applica- 
tion : " France, Mr. Speaker, is a patriotic and revolutionary 
country. Its inliabitants are a peoj)le remarkable for a sort of 
self-dependence which disdains all reliance upon other countries 
and other people. They depend, and are determmed to depend, 
mainly on themselves. Their language, their laws, their civi- 
lization, their destiny, they are accustomed to regard as entu-ely 
their o\va. Their religion, from the days of the Pragmatic 
Sanction, though derived originally from abroad, they have 
managed, in a great measure, to make their own. Though 
Catholics m faith, they have been, for a great many years, anti- 
papal in tlieii- govenimeat. The bishop of Rome has tried hard 



FIRST SPEECH COKTIXUED. 145 

for centuries to extend his ecclesiastical dominion over them • 
but they have met his attempts, from first to last, with nothing 
but coldness and resistimee. Eesistance to the papacy, while 
they are perfectly good Catholics in doctrine, has long been one 
of their ruling political dogmas. But the pope has never been 
willing to give up the struggle. He has ever been as deter- 
mined to extend his authority over France, as France has been 
determined to resist it. Thus, a long conflict has been coin^ 
on between a Catholic people and the head of the Catholic re- 
ligion. This conflict, carried to excess by both parties, has 
gradually produced among the people of France, especially in 
the literary circles, a class of men, who, knowing no other re- 
ligion but the Catholic, in their zealous opposition to the head 
of this religion, have matured their cause first into an opposi- 
tion to the religion itself, and finally to all religion. These are 
the French atheists ; and they have been able, by the most 
prodigious and long-protracted labors, to make their cause the 
cause of the French people. They have been able to raise, and 
for a series of years to maintain in France, a fierce, bloody and 
sweeping revolution. That revolution, at first democratic, 
turned out to be most basely and disgustingly tyrannical. The 
people themselves became at last weary of it. At this pre- 
cise point of time. Napoleon Bonaparte, a young French gen- 
eral, a man of extraordinary talents and ambition, rose up from 
the masses of the people, and resolved to take the revolution 
into his own hands and use it for his own aggrandizement. So 
successful was he, in this undertaking, that he has been, now 
for several years, the master, the tyrant, the scourge, in many 
respects, of continental Europe, hi his career of triumph, how- 
ever, the usurper meets, everywhere and always, with a check 
at the hands of England. England, therefore, must be hum- 
bled. England must be subdued. England must be blotted 
from the nmp of the nations. In the field of battle, he has thus 
far been able to meet her, to baflle her, and ollentimcs to an- 



146 WEBSTER A\U HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

nihilate her armies. He has thought that, on land, he would 
ever be able to control her. But England is emphatically a 
maritim.e country. She is mistress of the ocean. So long as 
she can retain her superiority at sea, the ambition of the French 
general, consul, emperor, will never succeed m the grand un- 
dertaking of universal empire. The commerce of England, 
therefore, out of which grows her gigantic navy, must be crip- 
pled, crushed, annihilated. Hence the Berlin decree. Hence, 
in opposition to the British orders in council, which England 
had passed in self-defense, the Milan decree. Hence, carrying 
out the same design, even after the laying of the Jefferson em- 
bargo, and in defiance of it, the Bayonne decree. Hence his 
seizure of Amei'ican shipping in French ports, and upon the 
high seas. Hence the confiscation of millions of the private 
property of our citizens ; and hence all those high-handed 
measures of the French government, which have worked such 
disaster to our commerce, hi this state of the case, sir, greatly 
agitated by the defensive measures which England found it ne- 
cessary to her existence to adopt, but entirely forgetM of what 
France had done of her own free will, and that her will might 
have free scope in the exercise of a universal domination, the 
United States have declared war, not on France, which began 
the struggle, which was the first transgressor, but against Eng- 
land, a country making a unanimous and perilous effort to 
maintain its own integrity and existence against a man, who, 
\\'hen he should have finished Europe, would sigh, like the all- 
devouring Greek, for another world to conquer. And who 
Icnows, sir, that that other world would not be, will not be, that 
very country which has thus far helped him in his progress to 
this universal conquest 1 For one, sir, I cannot say that these 
United States may not be his last field of battle. But it is said, 
sir, that Bonapart-e is a friend to us, and that his decrees, neces- 
sary for a time, have all been revoked. This is exactly the 
point, sir, about which I rose to seek information. It is the 



riRST SPEECH CONTINUED. 147 

point of inquiry in the resolutions which I have had the honor 
this day to read. I wish to know, and tlie country wishes to 
know, when, by whom, and in what manner those decrees have 
been revoked. For one, sir, I never heard of the revocation 
till after the war ^\•ith England had been declared. Tlicn they 
were produced. Then they were put into the hands of con- 
gress. Then they were published tlu-ough the length and 
breadth of the country as certain evidence of the generosity and 
friendly disposition of the government of France. Now, sir, I 
wish to know, and the people of tliis country wish to know, and 
I trust it is for the honor of the people and of the government 
to have it known, whether this revocation was made before or 
after the declaration. If before, and more than one whole year 
before, as is now said, I wish to know where it had been during 
all that time, and why it was kept concealed. If after, let us 
know, sir, and let the people know, how a declaration of war 
could be passed m this hall, and at the instance of this adminis- 
tration, against Great Britain, while we remained at peace with 
France. More than this, it is well known to you, sir, and to 
every gentleman m this house, that, even now, we have the 
letter of ]SI. Qiainpagny, asserting the revocation, and a copy 
of the emperor's address to the free cities, on the other hand, 
denying it. We have, also, now before us, decisions of the 
French admiralty affirming, and other decisions of the same 
courts, repudiating it. The whole matter, sir, is invohed in 
darkness and needs light. It will be recollected, too, that, in 
JSIarch last, the president had communicated to congress, im- 
mediately before its adjourmnent, certain correspondence be- 
tween our government and its ministers to France, the promi- 
nent features of which correspondence was, that, in an inter- 
view between our minister and the French secretary for flir- 
eign affairs, which took place about the first of May, 1812, it 
was ?tated by the latter that the decree in question had been 
put mto the hands of oiu- miiiister in France, and ti\insmitted 
VOL. I. G 10 



148 WEBSTER A"ND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

to the French minister in the United States, at the time at 
which it bore date. Here, sir, is the chief mystery. Now, if 
this be so, why was not that decree published to the world, at 
least to our fellow-citizens, that they might know and avail 
themselves of the removal of this restriction from their trade 
and general business'? Why was it not put into the hands of 
congress, as soon as received, which was before the declaration 
of war with England, that congress might act, in that great cri- 
sis, with all the light possible on a topic so momentous ? Right 
here, sir,'! am seriously puzzled in this matter. Here was a 
congress, at the date and sometime after the date of that re- 
vocation, hot for a declaration of war with England ; and there, 
outside of these chambers, was an administration equally zeal- 
ous, and seeking every argument and pretext for the most bel- 
ligerent measures. This revocation, however, wliich the ad- 
ministration affirm was in their possession before the war, and 
at the tiiBe of the declaration, and which would have been the 
weio-htiest argument possible for the war, was never used, never 
referred to, never hinted at, for this purpose, nor for any other 
purpose. Why was it not said, m reply to those membei-s 
who accused the administration of partiality in declaring war 
on England, wliile remaining at peace with France, that France 
had revoked, had recalled, had abolished all her offensive and 
injurious decrees, while England, thus freed from the necessity 
of keeping up her orders in council, pertinaciously and gratui- 
tously maintained them 1 Not a woixl, however, did you hear, 
at that time, about the revocation. The news of the revoca- 
tion came afterwards. It came after the war. It came at the 
time when an apology for the war was needed to quiet the 
risino- and growing opposition of our people. But, instead of 
quieting their resentment, it has roused their suspicion. They 
fear there is some collusion here. They fear that the reputa- 
tion of the countiy is at risk before the world. They wish to 
know the facts in the case ; and it is merely for the purpose of 



CONCLUSION OF THE SPEECH. 149 

eliciting information, and giving it to the people of these states, 
that I ofler to you the resolutions which I have had the honor 
of submitting to your consideration. And, before taking my 
seat, I trust the house will indulge me in adding to what I have 
already said, that the reputation of a country, of a whole peo- 
ple, is worthy of the deepest concern, and should claim at our 
hands the most grave and considerate attention. To maintain 
our national honor, as a nation respected for its fliir and open 
and impartitil intercourse with all other nations, will bo worth 
more to us, and to our children, than any number of wars, or 
any number of victories." 

Such, in a condensed form, is the substance, according to the 
few notes taken of it at the time of its delivery, and according 
to the recollection of some who heard it, of Mr. Webster's 
maiden speech in congress. It was in every way eminently 
successful. When the exordium, brief and pertinent, had been 
disposed of, the members still found themselves listening, they 
scarcely knew why, but probably because the speaker had given 
the impression that he was a man who had something to say. 
As he advanced, they listened with a gradually growuig inter- 
est, because what had been said gave evidence that the person 
speaking would be likely to say something better than they had 
expected, and perhaps as well as anythhig they had heard be- 
fore, on a new, an exciting and important subject. The bold- 
ness of the speech also had its effect upon them ; and they 
watched the young speaker the more narrowly to see how he 
would come out of so daring an undertaking. Before he was 
half through, however, all speculation was over ; he had mas- 
tered his position, had gained liis auditors ; and nothing re- 
mained but a deeper and a still deeper interest, till speaker and 
hearer were lost in that indescribable feeling, that all-subduing 
spell, which an oratorical triumph always throws around the 
orator, and in the unbounded and equally unaccountable horn- 



150 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

age, which such a triumph always receives fi-om a willing, and 
compels fi-om an unwilling, audience. 

" In the most splendid fortune, in all the dignity and pride 
of power," inquires the philosophic Tacitus, "is there anything 
that can equal the heartfelt satisfaction of the able advocate, 
when he sees the most illustrious citizens, men respected for 
their years and flourishing in the opinion of the public, yet pay- 
ing their court to a rising genius, and, in the midst of wealth 
and grandeur, fairly owning, that they still want somethhig su- 
perior to all their possessions ? " But when we see a man, a 
young man, by the simple power of speech, not only gaining 
at once the hearts of the aged and the wealthy, but of such in 
his own profession, in his own sphere of action, in spite of their 
jealousy of a rival and their dread of a superior, it is a triumph 
such as was never enjoyed by the proudest and most fortunate 
of the Caesars. Such a triumph was that of Mr. Webster, ha 
a single day, in an hour, by the force of his own mind and 
power, he had sprung from positive obscurity, so far as the 
country was concerned, not only to a most eminent position, 
but to that of the first orator in congress, and one of the strong- 
est, boldest, and most reliable of our statesmen. "At the 
time this speech was delivered," says Chief Justice Marshall, 
in a letter to a friend, " I did not know Mr. Webster ; but I 
was so struck with it, that I did not hesitate to state that Mr, 
Webster was a very able man, and would become one of the 
very first -'statesmen in America, and perhaps the very first." 
Such, almost in a day, became the opinion of tiie country ; and 
fi'ora tiiat day forward, intelligent men, all over the Union, as 
they looked after the proceedings of congress, were eager to 
read every paragraph, every scrap, that carried m it the new 
name of Daniel Webster, 

Mr. Webster, however, did not often gratify the public cu- 
riosity, in tins respect, while a member of the thirteenth con- 
gress. It was as much his discretion at the beginning of his 



A FRIEND TO THE NAVY. 151 

congressional career, as it afterwards became his settled prac- 
tice, not to speak on every question, nor on many questions, 
but only on the most important, and on such only when some- 
thing from his lips seemed to be demanded. Besides advoca- 
ting the resolutions just mentioned, which were carried by a 
heavy vote, he addressed the house on the increase of the navy^ 
which he maintamed had been too much neglected. Mr. Web- 
ster had always been, in private life, a strong and consistent 
advocate of a powerful navy. He was a citizen of a country, 
which, from Maine to Louisiana, bordered upon the ocean ; and 
behind that ocean, in the interior, there was a vast area of 
soil, such as the world could scarcely parallel, and which teemed 
with a sufficiency of agricultural products to give susienance to 
many nations. Without a navy of our o\\ti, we could have no 
commerce, because a commerce must be protected ; without a . 
commerce, the abundant growth of this immense region would 
lie and rot upon the furrows where it grew ; and this state of 
things would be the blight of every kind of business, entailing 
poverty and misery upon our population to the end of time. 
It was for this reason that he had opposed, as a private man, the 
embargo of Mr. Jefferson. It was for this reason, mainly, that 
he had opposed the policy of a needless war, though he now 
voted for all the supplies demanded to carry it successfully for- 
ward, after it had been unwisely undertaken. Both the em- 
bargo and the war were the end of commerce, while they con- 
tinued ; and when there was no commerce, we could make no 
sales of our surplus productions, we could reach no market, 
though we had everything to sell. If we could not sell, we 
could have no money ; and, destitute of money, we could have 
no power abroad, no enterprise at hoine, but must drag out a 
wretched existence in weakness, in ignorance, and in rags. 
Commerce, on the other hand, would bring with it money, 
power, business, enterprise, intelligence and the general pros- 



152 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

perity of the whole nation. This had always been the political 
doctrme of Mr. Webster. It was his doctrine still : 

" Le Tridont de Neptune est le sceptre du Monde." 

This had been the doctrine of Themistocles at Athens, of Pom- 
^ey at Rome, of Cromwell m England, and of Richelieu and 
Colbert hi France. It was the doctrme of nearly every far-see- 
mcr man of this country, whose judgment had not been ob- 
scured by a blind devotion to a party, or to the men of a 
party. It was the federal doctrme at that time, in opposition 
to the doctrines and policy of Jefferson, wliich Madison had 
received by dictation from his predecessor, rather than by the 
convictions of Ms o\vai mind. 

Mr. Webster's opinion of the war, and of the measures of 
the administration in relation to it, was most forcibly expressed 
in his speech on encouraging enlistments, delivered during the 
third session of the thirteenth congress. It will be perceived, 
by the perusal of a short extract, that, as an orator, he then 
had nearly all the point and power of his better days : " The 
humble aid," says the speaker, " which it would be in my power 
to render to measures of government, shall be given cheerfully, 
if government will pursue measures which I can conscientiously 
support. If even now, failing in an honest and sincere attempt 
to procure an honorable peace, it will return to measures of de- 
fense and protection, such as reason and common sense and the 
public opinion all call for, my vote shall not be withholden 
fi-om the means. Give up your futile projects of invasion. 
Extinguish the fires that blaze on your inland frontiers. Es- 
tablish perfect safety and defense there by adequate force. Let 
every man that sleeps on your soil sleep in security. Stop the 
bl )od that flows from the veins of unarmed yeomanry, and 
women and children. Give to the living time to bury and la- 
ment their dead in the quietness of private sori'ow. Having 
performed this work of beneficence and mercy on your inland 



HIS OPIXION OF THE WAR. 153 

border, turn and look with the eye of justice and compassion 
on your vast population along the coast. Unclench the iron 
grasp of your embargo. Take measiu'es for that end before 
another sun sets upon you. With all the war on your com- 
merce, if you would cease to make war upon it youi'selves, you 
would still have some commerce. That commerce would give 
you some revenue. Apply that revenue to the augmentation 
of your navy. Tliat navy in turn will protect your commerce. 
Let it no longer be sai.d, that not one ship of force, built by 
your hands since the war, yet floats upon the ocean. Turn the 
current of yoiu- efforts into the channel which national senti- 
ment has ali-eady worn broad and deep to receive it. A na- 
val Torce competent to defend your coasts against considerable 
armaments, to convoy your trade, and perhaps raise the block 
ade of your rivers, is not a chimei'a. It may be realized. If 
then the war must continue, go to the ocean. If you are seri- 
ously contenduig for maiitime rights, go to the theater where 
alone those rights can be defended. Thither eveiy mdication 
of your fortune points you. There the united wishes and ex- 
ertions of the nation will be with you. Even oiu- party divis- 
ions, acrimonious as they are, cease at the water's edge. Tliey 
are lost in attachment to the national cliaracter, on the element 
where that character is made respectable. In protecting naval 
interests by naval means, you will arm youi-selves Avith the 
whole power of national sentiment, and may command the 
whole abundance of the national resources. 1q tune you may 
be able to redress injuries in the place where they may be of- 
fered ; and, if need be, to accompany your own flag tlu'oughout 
the world with the protection of your own cannon."' 

Such was Mr. Webster's opinion of the war, in wliich there 
can be discovered notliing mconsistent in itself, or opposite to 
the opinions of his subsequent career. His course was so clear, 
and it had been pursued with such exti-aordinary abilit}', that 
he had molded to himself a mjijority of the federal party be- 



154 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

fore the termination of his first congress. He had so com- 
pletely gained the confidence of New England, and particularly 
of his own constituents, that, in August, 1814, without raising 
a finger for himself, he was reelected to the house, fi'om his 
former district, by a majority seldom witnessed in that part of 
the country, or in any other, before or since. 

The first subject, or one of the first, and decidedly the most 
important, which Mr. Webster met, on his return to congress, 
was the question of a United States bank. The reader will 
remember, that the charter of the first United States bank had 
expired between two and tlu'ee years before the period now 
under consideration. There was no such mstitution at the be- 
ginning of the war ; and the war party, with a few mdividual 
exceptions, had strongly advocated the rechartering of the 
bank, as a fiscal agent of the government particularly essential 
in transacting tlie heavy financial business v,'hich the war had 
devolved, and would always devolve, upon the administration. 
In a season of active hostilities, it was argued, money had to 
be raised at a moment's warning; and without the existence of 
an institution so large as to be able to render aid to the gov- 
emmfent, in an emergency, great embarrassments, perhaps dis- 
asters, might fall upon the common interests of the country. 
The constitutionality of the institution was based on the pro- 
vision of the constitution giving to the general government the 
right of coining money, which, of course, carried with it the 
regulation of the currency. On these grounds, and for these 
reasons, a bill was brought into the house, under the lead of 
Mr. Madison's secretary of the treasury, proposing to erect a 
new bank, whose capital should be fifty millions. Forty-five 
millions of this capital should consist of the public stocks. The 
remainder was to be in specie ; but this small amount of gold 
and silver being evidently inadequate, the new institution was 
to be a non-speeie-paybg bank, which could send out fifty mU- 
iions of irredeemable paper to deceive the eonfidenee of the 



I 



* 



THE DEMOCRATIC UNITED STATES BANK. 155 

people. In pajTnent for this immunity, it "was to be held un- 
der a perpetual obligation to loan the government thirty mil- 
lions of doUare, at any time when demanded. 

Such was to have been the democratic bank of eighteen hun- 
dred and fourteen. It was opposed by ^Mr. Calhoun, by INIr. 
Lo\vndes, and by Mr. Webster. Mr. Webster, after listening 
to the discussion of the bill by the older members for several 
days, rose in his place, on the second of January, 1815, and 
moved that the bill be recommitted to a select committee, Avho 
should be instructed to make the following alterations : " To 
reduce the capital to twenty -five millions, with liberty to the 
government to subscribe five millions ; to strike out the thir- 
teenth section ; to strike out so much of said bill as makes it 
obligatory on the bank to lend money to government ; to in- 
troduce a section providing, that if the banli do not commence 
its operations within the space of a given number of months, 
fi-om the day of the passing of the act, the charter shall thereby 
be forfeited ; to insert a section allowing interest at the rate of 
a given per cent, on any bill or note of the bank, of which pay- 
ment shall have been duly demanded, according to its tenor, 
and refused ; to inflict penalties on any directors Avho shall issue 
any bills or notes during any suspension of specie payment at 
the bank ; to provide that the said twenty-five millions of cap- 
ital stock shall be composed of five millions of specie, and 
twenty millions of any of the stocks of the United States hav- 
ing an interest of six per cent., or of treasury-notes ; and, 
finally, to strike out of the bill that part of it which restrains 
the bank from sellmg its stock during the war." Such was the 
motion ; and the speech made in support of it was one of the 
clearest specimens of argument ever listened to, even on the 
floor of congress. This very speech, however, and the course 
pursued by Mr. Webster at this time, have been oft;cn men- 
tioned, by those who either did not know the facts in the case, 
or who were interested not to state them as they were, as a 
VOL. I. G* 



156 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

proof of glai'ing inconsistency, on the part of Mr. WeLster, as 
a politician. They have long been made the basis of the 
charge of political vacillation. He is said, in relation to the 
bank, as in relation to the war, to have set out on democratic 
principles to become a federalist at last. He began, they say, 
by supporting the war and opposhig the United States bank ; 
but he afterwards changed sides I'especting both. So far as the 
war is concerned, liis course has now been set forth; and it is 
equally easy to acquit liim of all mconsistency hi relation to 
the banlc. No one need go beyond the first tliree paragraphs 
of his speech : " However the house may dispose of the mo- 
tion before it," says the still youtliAil orator, " I do not regret 
that it has been made. One object mt ended by it, at least, is 
accomplisiied. It presents a choice ; and it shows that the op- 
position which exists to the bill in its present state is not an un- 
distinguishing hostility to whatever may be proposed as a na- 
tional bank, but a hostility to an uistitution of such a useless 
and dangerous nature as it is believed the existing provisions of 
the bill would estabhsh. 

" If the bill should be recommitted, and amended according 
to the instructions which I have moved, its prmcijjles would be 
materially changed. The capital of the proposed bank will be 
reduced from fifty to thirty millions, and will be composed of 
specie and stocks in nearly the same proportions as the capital 
of the former bank of the United States. The obhgation to 
lend thirty millions of dollars to government, an obligation 
wliich cannot be fullilled without an act of bankniptcy, will be 
sti'uck out. The power to suspend the payment of its notes 
and bills will be abolished, and the prompt and faithful execu- 
tion of its contracts secured, as far as, from the nature of tilings, 
it can be secured. The restriction on the sale of its stocks will 
be removed ; and, as it is a monopoly, pro\'ision will be made 
that, if it should not commence its operations m a reasonable 
time, the grant shall be forfeited. Tlius amended, the bill 



HIS OBJECTIONS TO SUCH A BANK. 157 

would establish an institution not unlike the last bank of the 
United States in any particular which is deemed material, ex- 
ceptiiig only the legalized amount of capital. 

"To a bank of this nature, I should at any time be willing to 
give my support, not as a measure of temporary policy, or as 
an expedient for relief from the present poverty of the treas- 
ury, but as an institution of permanent interest and importance, 
useful to the government and country at all times, and most 
useful in times of commercial prosperity." 

Mr. Webster, therefore, as is clear from this quot-ition, was 
not opposed to a bank of the United States in general, but to 
that particular bank then and there proposed ; and his objec- 
tions to the mstitution, as given m the progress of his speech, 
are certainly of a very specific as well as a serious character : 
" The bank which will be created by the bill, if it should pass 
in its present form, is of a most extraoi'dinary, and, as I think, 
alarming nature. The capital is to be fifty millions of dollars ; 
five millions in gold and silver, twenty millions in the public 
debt created since the war, ten millions m ti'easury-notes, and 
fifteen millions to be subscribed by government in stock to be 
issued for that purpose. The ten millions in treasury-notes, 
when received in payment of subscriptions to the bank, are to 
be funded also in United States stocks. The stock subscribed 
by government on its own account, and the stocks in which the 
treasm'y-notes are to be fimded, are to be redeemable only at 
the pleasure of the government. The war stock will be re- 
deemable according to the terms upon Avhich the late loans 
have been negotiated. 

" The capital of the bank, then, will be five millions of specie 
and forty-five millions of government stocks, hi other words, 
the bank will possess five millions of dollars, and the govern- 
ment will owe it forty-five millions. The bank is restrained 
from selling this debt of government during the war, and gov- 
ernment is excused from paying until it shall see fit. The 



158 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

bank is also to be under obligation to loan to government thirty 
millions of dollars on demand, to be repaid, not when the con- 
venience or necessity of the bank may require, but when debts 
due from the bank to the government are paid ; that is, when 
it shall be the good pleasure of the government. The sum of 
thirty millions is to supply the necessities of government, and 
to supersede the occasion of other loans. This loan will doubt- 
less be made on the first day of the existence of the bank, be- 
cause the public wants can admit of no delay. Its condition, 
then, will be, that it has five millions of specie, if it has been 
able to obtain so much, and a debt of seventy-five millions, no 
part of which it can either sell or call in, due to it from 
government. 

" The loan of thirty millions to government can only be 
made by an immediate issue of bills to that amount. If these 
bills should return, the bank will not be able to pay them. 
This is certain ; and to remedy this inconvenience, power is 
given to the directors, by the act, to suspend, at their own dis- 
cretion, the payment of their notes until the president of the 
United States shall otherwise order. The president will give 
no such order, because the necessities of government will com- 
pel it to draw on the bank till the bank becomes as necessitous 
as itself Indeed, whatever orders may be given or withheld, 
it will be utterly impossible for the bank to pay its notes. No 
such thing is expected from it. The first note it issues will be 
dishonored on its return, and yet it will continue to pour out 
its paper so long as government can apply it in any degree to 
its purposes. 

" What sort of an institution, sir, is this ? It looks less like 
a bank than a department of government. It will be properly 
the paper-money department. Its capital is government debts ; 
the amount of its issues ■will depend on government necessities ; 
government, in effect, absolves itself from its own debts to the 
bank, and, by way of compensation, absolves the bank from 



niS OBJECTIONS CONTINUKD. 159 

its own contracts with others. This is, indeed, a wonderful 
scheme of finance ! The government is to grow rich, because 
it is to borrow without the obligation of repaying, and is to 
borrow of a bank which issues paper without lialMlity to re- 
deem it. If this bank, like other mstitutions which dull and 
plodding common sense has erected, were to pay its debts, it 
must have some limits to its issues of paper, and therefore there 
would be a point beyond which it could not make loans to gov- 
ernment. Tills would fall short of the wishes of the contrivers 
of this system. They provide for an unlimited issue of paper 
in an entire exemption from payment. They found their 
bank, m the first place, on the discredit of government, and then 
hope to enrich government out of the msolvency of their bank. 
With them, poverty itself is the main source of supply, and 
bankruptcy a mine of inexhaustible treasure. They trust not 
in the ability of the bank, but in its beggary ; not in gold and 
silver collected in its vaults, to pay its debts and fulfill its prom 
ises, but in its locks and bars, provided by statute, to fasten its 
doors against the solicitations and clamors of importunate cred 
itors. Such an institution, they flatter themselves, will not 
only be able to sustain itself, but to buoy up the sinking credit 
of the government. A bank which does not pay is to guar 
ranty the engagements of a government which does not pay ! 
'John Doe is to become security for Richard Roe.' Thus 
the empty vaults of the treasury are to be filled fi"om the 
equally empty vaults of the bank ; and the ingenious invention 
of a partnership betw'een insolvents is to restore and reestablish 
the credit of both ! " 

This, certainly, is a splendid specimen of reasoning, as well 
as of eloquence, for a new and inexperienced member of only 
thirty-two years of Jige. The whole speech is like the example 
here given. It produced a powerful impression upon the house. 
Though supported by the leaders of the administration, as an 
administration measure, at a time when the e^dstence of war 



100 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

•would naturally incline congress to favor any administration as 
far as possible, the bill for the new bank was lost ; and that 
would have been the end of it, m all probability, had not Mr. 
Webster revived the subject. He, having voted against the 
bill, moved a reconsideration, which motion prevailed ; and, 
chiefly from his suggestions, the bill was amended, and then 
passed, by a large majority. So, instead of having begun his 
political career by opposing the war and the bank of the United 
States, he helped carry on the one, because it had been created, 
and carried through the other in the lower house, though he 
had fii'st to demolish a bad undertaking before he could estab- 
lish a good one. This act of demolition is the only part of the 
work referred to by his enemies ; just as his objections to the 
war are quoted as a proof that he did not support it ; but it is 
the duty of the historian, and of the candid reader, to correct 
both errors, and to give the statesman the credit of being, so 
far at least, a consistent politician. 

On his return to New Hampshire, to spend the vacation be- 
tween the thirteenth and the fourteenth congress, he found him- 
self, more than ever, the favorite of the people. But he devoted 
no time to paying or receiving compliments. He went di- 
rectly to his office, to his practice, to his studies. He was more 
studious, in fact, than he ever had been. Having realized the 
value of knowledge, on the great arena of practical and public 
life, as he could but faintly imagine it while a student, he now 
grasped after knowledge of every kind with no juvenile views 
of its importance, but with an intelligent and manly power. 
He had before laid doN\'n the foundations broad and strong. 
He now gathered materials for immediate use ; and no man, 
perhaps, ever surpassed him, either in knowing what he ought 
to have, or in the capacity to obtain and to keep what he 
wanted. The laborious study of the brief period now under 
revicAv, from March to December of the year 1815, so wi- 
dened the vision, and multiplied the resources, and matured all 



RENEWAL OF HIS STUDIES. 161 

the faculties of Mr, Webster's mind, that, when he took his 
place in the fourteenth congress, his fi-icnds welcomed back a 
much stronger man than they had parted from in spring. He 
had not been satisfied, as many of his associates had been, with 
the success, even the unparalleled success, of this opening of 
his career. Ordinary men, who have ambition, mistake their 
ambition for talent, and so trust to what they think nature has 
done for them without study. Really gi'cat men, having less 
of ambition, and more of sound judgnient, however conscious 
of natiu'e's gifts, study without cessation, and make their de- 
pendence on their o-wn exertions. It was so, at this tune and 
always, with Mr. Webster. 

It has been thought by philosophical historians, that the loss 
of the great library of Alexandria, so sorely lamented by suc- 
cessive generations of scholars, has been, as it was providen- 
tially designed to be, a blessing to the human mind. Contain- 
ing, as it doubtless did, the treasures of the world's learning, 
up to that period, it might have satisfied too long the cravings 
of the intellect and rendered the race intellectually inactive. 
The loss of tins resource, therefore, while it swept away a great 
amount of knowledge, may be supposed, very fairly, to have 
brought the mmd of man to a degree of independence, of thor- 
ough and healthy self-reliance, which, otherwise, would not have 
been the characteristic and glory of modern ages. A fate, or a 
fortune, similar to this, had happened, a year or two prior to 
the period now before us, to Mr. Webster ; and, without any 
doubt, it had exerted a most salutary influence, over and above 
his losses, upon the progi'ess of his education. In the month 
of December, 1813, in a conflagration that occurred then at 
Portsmouth, he had been a chief sufll-rcr. He had lost, in one 
sad destruction, his house, his library, and the notes and mem- 
oranda and other fi-uits of all his former reading. All had per- 
ished together ; and, after years of painful study and laborious 
saving, he had been thrown, in a suiglc hour, naked and alone 



162 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

upon the world, there^ifter to rely, not upon what he had been, 
or had known, or had treasured up for use, but upon himself 
as he then was, and upon new resources to be gathered up by 
a mind more than ever capable to do its work. This, beyond 
all question, was one of the many wonderful events, which 
seemed to follow each other, in Mr. Webster's history, as if 
directed by the hand of Providence, that nothing might be neg- 
lected in the development of his great mmd. And the effect 
flilly justified the design. A common man would have sunk 
under such a disaster ; but Mr. Webster, rising to the height 
of his necessities, resolved not to be a loser by his mis- 
fortune. From that hour, he had studied with increased zeal ; 
he had reperused his favorite authors, and taken mmutes of his 
reading many times more valuable than those lost by the fire ; 
and he now came forth, after his two years of unparalleled la- 
bor, a man of larger proportions, better furnished and prepared 
for the great demands of life, than he was or could have been 
with all that had been taken from him. As we see, in com- 
mercial and growing cities, a valuable block, ancient and full 
of treasures, fall m a day by some sad calamity, but the next 
day rise again, or begin to rise, on a broader foundation and 
with superior splendor ; so the loss suftered by Mr. Webster 
had been but a momentary loss, followed by a breadth of effort, 
and a towering of success, such as he would scarcely have at- 
tempted had he not been thus roused to action. He was not 
a man to be conquered by misfortune. 

Coming, with all this renew^ed preparation, into the fourteenth 
congress, where his former fame still lingered, he was at once 
the centre of all eyes, and the hope of a great and growing 
party. The first question he encountered, after his return, was 
the question of revenue and taxation knomi among politicians 
as the tariff". The administration, having failed in the estab 
lishment of their United States bank, and having impo.sed upon 
the country, by an expensive war, a most onerous debt, stood 



OPPOSED TO THE PROTECTIVE TARIFF. 163 

in need of revenue ; and the old war party, therefore, supported 
by the South, came forward with a protective tariflj wliich, it 
was supposed, would serve the double purpose of pourino- 
money into (he exliausted treasury, and of succoring those in- 
fant manufactories, which had started up during the period of 
the embargo and the war. Pennsylvania, however, was the 
chief manufactiu-ing state. New England was still devoted to 
the sea ; and, imagining that the freest trade would bring the 
largest business for its ships, it was jealous of a tariff more pro- 
tective than what was necessary for the debts and expenses of 
the government. To protection, for its owti sake, the New 
England states heartily objected ; and, in making their opposi 
tion to the doctrine of protection, which they thought would 
lessen trade, and so hurt their business, they looked for sup 
port to Mr. Webster. Nor did they look in vain. Mr. Webstei 
was at this time opposed to a high protective tariff, because 
there were scarcely any manufactures in the country to pro- 
tect, and because the protective policy was opposed to the 
business of his constituents. Had the manufacturing interests 
of the other states been so large as to overbalance the com- 
mercial interests of New England, his large patriotism would 
certainly have led him to sustain the gi-eater in preference to 
the less. But this was not the case ; and he could see no rea- 
son why he should vote his constituents out of business, and 
caiise poverty and distress to his friends at home, to foster a 
much smaller interest abroad. This, he thought, and thought 
justly, would be pushing a virtue till it became a vice. Ad- 
mitting, therefore, the constitutionality of a protective tariff, he 
doubted its expediency at that time. The time might come, 
when the country as a whole, or large portions of it, would 
wish to change their natural business of agriculture and com- 
merce, of raising and selling produce, when it would be ex- 
pedient, of course, to change the policy of legislation so as to 
meet any new demands of business and the altered wishes 

VOL. I. il 



164 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of the people. But that time, he thought, had not yet come. 
The people, as a whole, did not desire protection, and their 
business, as a whole, would be injured by it. For these rea- 
sons, Mr. Webster opposed the protective tariff of the four- 
teenth congress ; but, notwithstanding his opposition, which was 
almost insurmountable, the middle and southern states vuiited 
in its support and carried it through. 

Upon this opposition, on the part of Mr. Webster, to the 
policy of the protective tariff, the old charge of political vacil- 
lation has long been urged. The force of the charge, if it is to 
have any force, must rest on the assumption, that any change 
m a statesman's opinions, between youth and age, must of ne- 
cessity demonstrate an inconsistency of character. Is such a 
premiss, in any of the walks of life, to be admitted 1 If a man 
is found guilty of fi'cquent changes, the fact will weaken the 
pubhc confidence m his judgment. If the many changes hap- 
pen also to have been experienced suddenly, the person's mo- 
tives are apt to be suspected. But when a man's opinions, 
though different at different periods of his life, are known to 
have come on gradually, about as much so as the maturity of 
manhood follows upon the immaturity of youth, there is evi- 
dence furnished, not of inconsistency, but of consistency, of a 
natural and healthy growth of mind, of the best development 
and discipline of the mental and moral faculties. No man, 
whether citizen, or divine, or statesman, should be afraid to 
modify or put off opinions, if he take sufficient care in arriving 
at his ultimate conclusions. But opinions may change from a 
change in the things respecting which the opinions are enter- 
tained. In morals, in divinity, in the exact sciences, this state- 
ment wUl not hold good, because right and wrong, the facts and 
doctrines of religion, and the axioms and demonstrations of 
mathematics, are immutable. It is not so with the practical 
sciences. It is not so in politics. There is no question of le- 
gislation that is not liable to fluctuation. To-day, it may be 



REASONS FOR THAT OPPOSITION. 165 

expedient and politically right to declare war against a foreign 
nation. To-morrow, the casus belli may be removed, which 
fact would make a declaration of war impolitic and immoral. 
To-day, the situation of a country may require a general bank- 
ing institution, and the want of it may be felt as a public evil. 
To-morrow, circumstances have changed ; nobody wants it ; and 
consistency requires of every patriot a corresponding change of 
opmion and of action. To-day, there may be no reasons for 
the establishment of a protective tariff. To-morrow, nothing 
but such a tariff will meet the altered demands of business. 
Such changes, in fact, are common in all countries ; but they 
ai'e a part and parcel of the condition of new settlements. This 
country, in its first years, could certainly lay down no general 
maxims for all future ages. The best that the colonies could 
do might have been the worst thing for sovereign states. The 
states themselves, at the commencement of their confederation, 
were but so many experiments entering into one grand experi- 
ment. Their origin, their government, their whole condition, 
were without a parallel in history. They could look to no pre- 
cedents for wisdom. New prmciples had to be applied to new 
circumstances. No dogmatism would be Avisdom. Trials had 
to be made of such general principles as were at first deemed 
best ; and these principles had to be fitted slowly, and carefully, 
and with vai'ious modifications certainly, to the great problem 
of American free government. A dogged adherence to first 
attempts would have been the height of folly. At a time, 
when all the manufactories in the United States used less cap- 
ital than is now used in some of the smaller manuflicturing 
towns of Massachusetts, and less than was then employed in 
the shipping interests of so inconsiderable a sea-port as Salem, 
it might have been reasonably supposed by JMr. Webster, that 
he was not called u2)on to vote for a protective tariff. The facts 
of the case, however, soon changed. The protective tarifl* in 
spite of his opposition, was carried and became the policy of 



166 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the country. Capital began at once to be invested in manufac- 
tories. New England itself, finding but a scanty resource in 
its rocky and comparatively unproductive soil, soon entered 
largely into this new field of labor. By holding out this legis- 
lative encouragem.ent to the business, by which thousands of 
citizens were led to invest all their means in this direction, gov- 
ernment virtually pledged its faith not to disappoint or aban- 
don it. To do so, as many originally opposed to the policy 
believed, would be a fraud upon the people, which would tend 
to unsettle, not only their business, but their confidence in our 
form of government, to which not a few still looked as a doubt- 
ful experiment. It would have been a most evil example, to 
every citizen, in a way virtually to affect the stability and even 
the morality of every individual in the nation. Mr. Webster, 
perceiving the new wants of the country in this way produced, 
and feeling the full force of the positive necessity, that the 
government should forever keep its faith with all men, and 
particularly with our own citizens, not only felt at liberty, but 
felt bound, in view of these changes, from that time to sustain 
a policy, which, at first, he deemed inexpedient. All that can 
be said of him is, that the whole country changed, in this re- 
spect, making it patriotic for him to change with it. What 
was once improper had become proper ; and he continued to 
act according to his convictions of the existing though altered 
demands of a new and rapidly growing country. Had he 
not done so, he would not have been a statesman, or a phi- 
losopher, but a bigot. He would never have been Daniel 
Webster. 

The bill for a United States bank, discussed and amended by 
Mr. Webster in the previous congress, but lost in the senate, was 
now again brought forward; and he again mtroduced his amend- 
ments. He particularly opposed, at this second trial, that part 
of the bill which gave the government a sort of copartnership 
in the bank. He wished the bank to be entirely independent 



AGAIN OPPOSES A UNITED STATES BANK. 1^ 

of the government, and the govemmcnt to be as entirely indepcn 
dent of the bank. He thought that a dh-ect and mterested aUiance, 
on so vast a scale, between the great money holders of the coun- 
try and the head of the federal government, was at least danger- 
ous, and might be disasti'ous. For the bill suitably amended, 
for a bank properly and constitutionally established, he ex- 
pressed a decided favor ; but he did not think it expedient to 
incorporate so large a bank and then make it virtually a de- 
partment of the general government. His opposition had ef' 
feet ; and the bank finally erected was very different from the 
bank concocted by the cabinet of the current administration. 
He cairied an amendment, "which required deposits, as well as 
the notes of the bank, to be paid on demand in specie." But 
the majority of his amendments were rejected ; and, therefore, 
when the bill came up on its final passage, he voted against it. 
It was carried, however, and Mr. Webster afterwards became 
its fi-iend on the same ground, and for the same reason, that he 
became the friend of a protective tariff, after having exerted 
himself against it. Once established, the bank raised such ex 
pectations, and gave such a new direction to all the capital of 
the country, that it could not be abolished without great deti-i 
ment to the business of the nation. Mr. Webster always ex 
erted himself for a settled policy ; and he regarded fi-equent 
and sudden changes in the laws as an evil to be dreaded and 
avoided, and frequently as a greater evLI than those sought to be 
remedied by a changeful legislation. " The old building stands 
well enough," said Burke, "though part Gothic, part Grecian, part 
Chinese, until an attempt is made to square it into uniformity; 
then it may come down upon our heads with much uniformity 
of ruin." In this country, however, the building is scarcely al 
lowed to stand long enough to become old ; for oiu' smaller poli 
ticians spend their time, as children do, in erecting merely for 
the sport of tearing down again. Mr. Webster, on the con. 
trary, tlirough his whole life labored to give every great meas- 



168 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

lire, even that to -which he had been somewhat opposed, a fair 
ti-ial, rather than suddenly to reverse it ; and sometimes, as in 
the case before us, he came to look upon a measure already 
established as so much better than none at all, or such as could 
be afterwards secured, that he became the friend and supporter 
of what he at first did not perfectly approve. 

On the 26th of April, 1816, Mr. Webster introduced to the 
house a series of resolutions, three in number, respecting the 
collection of the public revenue. For those resolutions, and 
the speech delivered in advocacy of their passage, the whole 
country, and particularly New England, owe, and will forever 
owe, to Mr. Webster a deep debt of gratitude. This one act 
should be enough to give him a lasting reputation as a states- 
man and a patriot. The war had been carried through with 
flmds borrowed from the various baulking institutions of the 
several states ; and these mstitutions, encouraged by the clam- 
oring necessities of the government greatly to extend their is- 
sues, had so flooded the country with their paper, that, after 
the peace, there had been a general suspension of specie pay- 
ments by the banks out of the New England states. The ad- 
ministration, however, with an improper partiality, or a still 
more improper carelessness, had been able to establish the 
policy, that the revenue collected in any state might be paid in 
the bills of the banks of that state, but not in the bills of any 
other state. New England, for example, could pay her cus- 
toms only in New England bills, which were everywhere as 
good as gold ; while the other states were permitted to pay in 
the bills of their respective banks, which, by the suspension, 
had depreciated on an average nearly twenty-five per cent, hi 
other words, New England paid about twenty -five per cent, 
more on all goods imported by her — and she was the chief im- 
porter — than the other states did on goods which they im- 
ported. In addition to the exceeding inequality and injustice 
of this course, it deranged the exchanges of the whole country, 



niS SPECIE RESOLUTION. 169 

by giving manifest sup|x»rt to a system of corrupt and fraudu- 
lent banking ; and there never could have been, under this 
state of things, such a currency as should inspire confidence, or 
satisfy the demands of business. Business itself goos down, or 
becomes hopelessly embarrassed, under such circumstances. 
It was for this general purpose, therefore, of restoring the cur- 
rency of the country, and of defending the rights of New En- 
gland in particular, that !Mr. Webster offered his three resolu- 
tions on the subject. Two of the resolutions, which simply 
contained declarations of principles, were withdrawn at the 
suggestion of those, w^ho, though friends to the object, could not 
agree with ]Mr. Webster on the abstract grounds of action. 
The third resolution put into the hands of the secretary of the 
treasury power to adopt any measures by him deemed expe- 
dient, to cause all sums due to the United States "to be col- 
lected and paid in the legal currency of the United States, or 
treasury -notes, or notes of the bank of the United States, as by 
law provided and declared, or in notes of banks which are 'pay- 
able and 'paid on demand, in the said legal currency of the 
United States." That is, all debts due to the government 
were to be paid, in all the states alike, either in gold and silver, 
or in the bills of such banks as paid specie at their counters. 
This w-as known as the "specie resolution ;" and it was the 
greatest step ever taken by this country to establish, by gen- 
eral law, a currency uniforni in every portion of the Union. 
It met with unexpected favor, Tlie speech made in its behalf 
is one of the ablest ever made even by Mr. Webster. The 
measure was so popular, that it passed " through all the stages 
of legislation," according to !Mr. Everett, on the day it was pro- 
posed ; and, approved by a two-thirds vote, and signed by 
Islv. Madison four days later, it was at once equally popular 
outside of congress, and soon regenerated the fallen currency 
and business of the whole nation. 

Thus it happened, that one of the youngest men then in con- 



170 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

gress, following in a path where Calhoun himself had failed, suc- 
ceeded, not in securing some trivial grant to some favorite 
place, or in the passage of some law of local value only, but in 
establishing a general principle, for all the states of the Union, 
which has been exerting a most salutary influence upon every 
citizen from that day forward, and which will exert it, if per- 
mitted to remain, so long as the United States shall contmue to 
be a country. Such, even then, was the character of the youth- 
ful representative. His mind was not satisfied with efforts of 
limited importance. He looked over the whole land with a 
broad and comprehensive vision. He looked through the fu- 
ture, and sought to set up influences that should be felt in com- 
ing times. " Cases are dead things," said Burke, " but princi- 
ples are livmg and productive ;" and this, even at the opening 
of his career, seemed to be the leading maxim of that remark- 
able young congressman, whom the world began now to know 
under the name of Daniel Webster. 



CHAPTEE yn. 

A LAWYER IN MASSACHUSETTS. 

" "Whatever else concerning liim has been controverted by 
anybody," says IsLt. Seward, a rival and yet a friend of Web- 
ster, "the fifty thousand lawyers of the United States, inter- 
ested to deny his pretensions, conceded to him an unapproach- 
able supremacy at the bar." Tliis, certainly, is a eulogy suf- 
ficient for the ambition of any man ; but it is a eulogy which 
had been anticipated, and repeated by the ablest jurists, civil- 
ians, barristers and attorneys of this country, for the last thirty 
years. All of them, without an exception, when comparing 
Mm with the most distinguished of his profession, have ac- 
corded to him tliis preeminence : 

" Qaantum lenta solent inter viburna cnpressi." 

With all the honors and triumphs of his public life, which, 
for a man so young, surpassed all precedent on this side of 
the Atlantic, Daniel Webster still looked to the scenes he 
had left behind him, and to the profession he so dearly val 
ued, with desire, with ambition, and with hope. "I am sick," 
said William W^irt, in a letter to his intimate friend, Dr. Rice, 
"of public life. My skin is too thin for the business. A pol- 
itician should have the hide of a rhinoceros to bear the thi-usta 
of the folly, ignorance and meanness of those, who are dis- 
posed to mount into momentary consequence by questioning 
their betters — if I may be excused the expression, after pro. 
fessing my modesty. 'There's nought but care on every hand* 
VOL. I. H 



172 WEBSTER AN^D HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

— all, all is vanity and vexation of spirit, save I'eligion, friend- 
ship and literature." Not for the same reason, for no thrusts 
had been made at Webster, but for his love of retirement and 
of domestic tranquillity, he longed to return, after this brief 
trial of himself before the country, to his books, to his private 
business, and to that dignified and yet easy way of life, divided 
between work and recreation, which had always been to him 
the ideal of existence. By natural taste, he was rather a liter- 
ary man, than a politician ; but his studies, his profession, his 
position in society, compelled him to be, in spite of his strong 
est resolutions, and wherever he placed himself, a man of the 
public. A star of the first magnitude, created for a luminary 
and a blessing, might as well hold its position in the zenith, as 
on the verge of the horizon ; for, hide itself where it might, its 
own brilliancy would betray it ; and men would climb moun- 
tains, or descend into pits and caverns, to witness and ad- 
mire it. 

It was thus with Daniel Webster in the retirement he sought, 
at the close of the fourteenth congress, in Boston. His posi 
tion in New Hampshire, though highly honorable, had not 
been sufficiently lucrative for a man of his generosity of char- 
acter, with an increasing flimily. Though he had no great love 
of money, scarcely enough for the ordinnry purposes of life, he 
had felt that he was doing too little for himself in Portsmouth, 
and that he must establish himself at a point where he would 
be likely to find a larger amount of practice. He had thought 
of several localities, but chiefly of Boston and Albany, in both 
of which, as the reader will remember, he had made valuable 
acquaintances in his younger days. Albany, at that time, was 
not only, as it is now, the capital of the most populous of the 
states, but a city of greater commercial importance, compara- 
tively, than it is at present. Boston, however, was the capital 
of Massachusetts, and the metropolis of New England ; and 
Mr. Webster's affection for his native country, added to the 



KEMOVES TO BOSTON. 173 

solicitations of numerous wai*m and admiring friends, had pre- 
vailed on him to make Boston the place of his future residence; 
and he had moved to that city, and opened an office, at the ter- 
mination of the first session of the fourteenth congress. It was 
here, during the succeeding seven years, that Mr. Webster rose 
to that eminence as a lawyer, which he ever afterwards main- 
tained. "Tlie promise of his youth," says IMr. Everett, "and 
the expectations of those who had known him as a student, 
were more than fulfilled. He took a position as a counselor 
and an advocate, above which no one has ever risen in the 
country. A large share of the best business of New England 
poured into his hands ; and the veterans of the Boston bar ad- 
mitted him to an entire equality of standing, repute, and 
influence." 

His position, however, was not gained without an effort. 
With his residence in Boston, Mr. Webster began a more 
thorough course of reading, as a lawyer, and particularly as a 
constitutional lawyer, than he had ever before undertaken. 
His short career in congress had shown him, probably, more 
than all his former experience, the peculiar nature of his genius. 
He saw, that, while he could stand equal to his first competi- 
tors in the ordinary departments of his profession, he was more 
than their equal in his fitness for those general questions, com- 
ing directly under the constitutions of the slates, and the con- 
stitution of the Union'^ which require the best exercise of the 
best faculties of the human mind. His mind ran in that direc- 
tion. He was always looking to the foundation of every sub- 
ject ; and he delighted to lay down his work, his argument, 
his business, on the bottom of established truths, or everlasting 
principles. There is no doubt, that, in the intricacies of com- 
mon practice, such as every lawyer meets with in every court, 
Mr. Webster had, then and always, his equals if not superiors. 
Li this departinent, it is probable that Jeremiah Mason, Jere 
miah Smith, Franklin Dexter, and several others in New En 



174 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

gland, were nearly a match for him in his best days ; but not 
one of them could stand before him, when he rose to trace a 
cause to its ultimate grounds, or deduce it from the secret ele- 
ments of human nature. Farther south, there were En:imett, 
and Wirt, and Pinckney, who, as advocates merely, on an oo- 
casion not entirely of the first magnitude, but such as a great 
deal of technical learning, an exquisite tact, and a finished and 
fine elocution could easily cope with, could venture to meet 
Mr. Webster even before the supreme court at Washington ; 
but, as will be soon seen, when a cause involving fundamental 
axioms, and reasoning ah oriffine, and a thorough mastery of 
the structure of society was to be undertaken, the technicalities, 
and legal artifices, and racy eloquence of those gentlemen, cap- 
tivating as they were to a crowd of uninitiated spectators, were 
notliing in the way of Mr. Webster. He scarcely seemed to 
notice them. He would walk directly up to the main points of 
his case, seize them with a mighty grasp, and hold them, as a 
lion holds his prey, in perfect defiance of the rattling small 
arms of his assailants. \n this field, in fact, he was always en- 
tirely at home, and more than the equal of any man of his age, 
or of his country, with the single exception, perhaps, of Alex- 
ander Hamilton. 

The first cause of public importance, which Mr. Webster un- 
dertook after his removal to Boston, was the celebrated de- 
fense of the Kennistons against Goodindge, who had charged 
them with highway robbery. So few of Mr. Webster's legal 
arguments have been reported, and the case now mentioned 
furnishes so characteristic a view of his peculiar talents, that 
the careful reader will not fail to peruse with pleasure, doubt- 
less, quite a full and satisfactory account of it, which was writ- 
ten out, at the time, by Stephen W. Marston, Esq., of New- 
buryport, who was associated with Mr. Webster in the trial : 
" Major Goodridge," says the writer, " was a young man of good 
education, and respectable connections, of fine personal appear- 



CASE OP THE KENNISTONS. 175 

ance, gentlemanly deportment, and good charcocter. His place 
of business was Bangor, Maine, and, at the time of the alleged 
robbery, he was on his way to Boston, traveling in a one-horse 
sleigh, alone, with a considerable sum of money. Before leav- 
ing home he procured a pair of pistols, which he discharged 
and loaded daily, as he said, in some unfrequented piece of 
woods, for he did not wish it to be known that he was armed. 
He said, moi-eover, that he took the precaution to put a pri- 
vate mark upon every piece of money in his possession, so as 
to be able to identify it if he should be robbed. His some- 
what singular reason for these preliminary measures was, that 
he had heard of a robbery in Maine, not long before. 

" When he arrived at Exeter, New Hampshire, he procured 
nine balls, and then, for the first time, made no secret of hav 
ing pistols. At this place he left his sleigh, obtained a saddle, 
and started for Newbury port on horseback, late in the after- 
noon of the 19th of December, [1817] passing the Essex Mer- 
rimack bridge a few minutes before nine o'clock. On the 
brow of the hill, a short distance fi'om the bridge, is the place 
of the robbery, in full view of several houses, on a great thor- 
oughfare, where people are constantly passing, and where the 
mail coach and two wagons were known to have passed 
within a few minutes of the time of the alleged robbery. 

" The major's story was as follows : Three men suddenly 
appeared before him, one of whom seized the bridle of the 
horse, presented a pistol, and demanded his money. The ma- 
jor, pretending to be getting his money, seized a pistol from 
his portmanteau with his right hand, grasped the ruffian at the 
horse's head with his left, and both discharged their pistols at 
the same instant, the ball of his adversary passing through the 
major's hand. The three robbers then pulled him from his 
horse, dragged him over the frozen ground, and over the fence, 
beating him till he was senseless, and robbed him of about sev- 
enteen hundred dollars in gold and paper money, and left him 



176 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

with his gold watch and all his papers in the field. Recover- 
ing in about half an hour, he went back to the bridge ; passed 
several houses without calling, and, at the toll-house, accused, 
the first person he met with, a female, of robbing him ; and 
so continued charging various people about him with the rob- 
bery. After some time a lantern was procured, and himself 
with others started for the place of the robbery, where were 
found his watch, papers, penknife and other articles. He rep- 
resented to them that the robbers had bruised his head, 
stamped upon his breast, and stabbed him in several places. 
Physicians were called ; and he appeared to be insane. The 
next day he went to Newburyport, and was confined to his 
bed for several weeks. A reward of three hundred dollars, 
soon increased by voluntary subscriptions to one thousand, was 
offered for the detection of the robbers and the recovery of the 
money. As soon as the njajor was able to leave his bed, he 
went to Danvers, consulted his friends there ; and the result 
of his deliberations and inquiries was the arrest of the Kennis- 
tons, who were found in an obscure part of the town of New 
Market, New Hampshire, their place of residence. In their 
house the major found some pieces of his mai'ked gold, de- 
posited under a pork baiTel in the cellar. He also found there 
a ten-dollar note, which he identified as his own. 

" This was proof indeed of the facts of the robbery, which 
seemed for a time effectually fastened on the Kennistons. But 
one circumstance after another came to light, in regard to the 
transaction, until some people felt doubts creeping over their 
minds as to the truthfulness of the major's story. These were 
few in number, it is true ; but such an intimation, coming from 
any respectable source, was enough to startle the major and 
his fi'iends from their apathy, and incite them to renewed ef- 
forts to probe this dark and mysterious transaction to its 
depths. The result was to search the house of Mr. Pearson, 
the toll-gatherer at the bridge ; but here nothing was found. 



CASE OF THE KENNIST0N8 CONTINUED. 177 

They then procured the services of an old conjuror of Danvers, 
Swimmington by name, and, under his direction, with witch- 
hazel and metallic rods, renewed their search upon Mr. Pear- 
son's premises, this time discovering the major's gold and pa- 
per wrappers, Mr. Pearson was arrested, carried to New- 
buryport, examined before two magistrates, and discharged at 
once. This operation proved most un propitious to the major's 
plans. So great was the indignation of Mr. Pearson's friends, 
for he was a respectable man, that they lost all control over 
themselves, and, after the examination, detaching the horses 
from the sleigh, they drew him home themselves. 

" It now became more necessary than ever, that some one 
should be found, who might be connected with the Kennistons 
in the robbery ; for the circumstances in relation to these men 
were such, that the public could not believe that they had re- 
ceived a portion of the spoil. The next step, therefore, was 
to arrest one Taber of Boston, who had formerly lived in Port 
land, and whom Goodridge said he had seen at Alfred on his way 
up, and from whom he pretended to have obtained information 
in regard to the Kennistons. Li Taber's house were found a 
number of the marked wrappers, which the major had put 
round his gold before leaving home. Taber was likewise 
brought to Newburyport, examined, and bound over for trial 
with the Kennistons. 

" Notwithstanding all this accumulation of evidence, the pub- 
lic were not satisfied. It seemed to be necessary that some- 
body living near the bridge should be connected with the trans- 
action ; and Mr. Joseph Jackman was fastened upon as that 
unfortmiate man, he having left Newbury for New York very 
soon after the alleged robbery. Thither Goodridge immedi- 
ately proceeded, found Jackman, who was living then with his 
brother, searched the house, and in the garret, among some old 
rubbish, found a large number of his marked wrappers ! The 
major's touch was magical, and underneath his fingers gold and 



ITS WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

bank-notes grew in plenty. Jackman was arrested and lodged 
in 'the Tombs,' while Goodridge returned to Boston, got a 
requisition from the governor, and had him brought in irons to 
Ipswich, where the supreme judicial court was then in session. 
The grand jury had risen, but he was examined before a ma- 
gistrate, and ordered to recognize to appear at the next term — 
which he did, and was discharged. An indictment had been 
found against the Kennistons and Taber ; and the time of trial 
had arrived. Notwithstanding the doubts and suspicions, 
which had been excited by the conduct of Goodridge, yet the 
evidence against the Kennistons, Taber and Jackman was so 
overwhelming, that almost every one felt sure of their conviction. 
To such an extent did this opinion prevail, that no member of 
the Essex bar was willing to undertake their defense. Under 
these circumstances, two or three individuals, who had been 
early convinced that the major's stories were false from begin- 
ning to end, determined, the day before the trial, to send to 
Suffolk for counsel. Mr. Webster had just then removed to 
Boston from Portsmouth. His services were engaged ; and, 
late in the night 'preceding the day of trial, he arrived at Ips- 
wich, having had no opportunity to examine the witnesses, and 
but little time for consultation. The indictment against Taber 
was nol prossed, and the trial of the Kennistons was com- 
menced. Mr. Webster, as senior counsel, conducted the de- 
fense with a degree of ability, boldness, tact and legal learning, 
which had rarely been witnessed in Essex county ; and, not- 
withstanding the accumulated mass of evidence against the 
Kennistons, they were acquitted. 

" At the next term of the supreme judicial court, Jackman 
was indicted and tried, but the jury did not agree, though the 
Hon. William Prescott had been employed to assist the pros- 
ecuting officer. Jackman was again tried at the next term of 
the court, and this time defended by Mr. Webster, and ac- 
quitted. 



CASE OF THE KENNISTONS CONTINUED. 179 

" The criminal prosecutions growing out of this affair being 
thus ended, ]\Ir. Pearson commenced an action against Good- 
ridge for malicious prosecution, laying his damages at two thou- 
sand dollars, which sum the jury awarded him without leaving 
their scats. In this case, also, ]Mr. Webster was counsel for 
the plaintiff; and time had brought forth so many new facts, 
and the evidence was so clear and overwhelmincc against Good- 

O CD 

ridge, that the public became satisfied that he was his own rob- 
ber ! He was surrendered by his bail, committed to jail, took 
the poor debtors' oath, and soon after left the commonwealth, and 
has not resided here since. The public rarely stop to consider 
how much they are indebted to men lilce Webster for laying 
bare the villainy of such a deep-laid and diabolical plot. But 
for him, there is no doubt the Kennlstons and Jackman would 
have been convicted of highway robbery, though innocent." 

It was undeniably Mr. Webster's custom, in every trial 
which he conducted, to make every preparation essential to the 
case ; but the}' Avho imagine that, without such preparation, he 
was no more than an ordinary man, as if he had no great read- 
iness of speech, should read his argument in this prosecution. 
Without a day's opportunity for study, with only a few hours' 
reading of the notes of the junior counsel, he stood up before 
the jury and made such a defense of his clients, as none but a 
Pitt, or a Fox, or a Burke could have made, with or without 
pi'eparation. When he sat doAra, he had convinced the judg- 
ment and moved the sympathies of every man that heard liim 
speak ; and in every one's estimation, court, lawyers, specta- 
tors, he had given them the exact truth, and made an cfK)rt 
worthy of being remembered for a generation. It was remem- 
bered ; and it may continue to be read and admired, in the 
rough notes taken of it at the moment by another haml, and 
revised by himself, as long as legal abilities and forensic elo- 
quence shall engage the attention of mankind. 

There was one topic in the argument of Mr. Webster, which, 
VOL. I. II* 12 



180 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

judged from the hasty report already mentioned, must have 
wrought up the advocate to his highest pitch of eloquence. 
The witnesses had spoken of the appearance of the prisoners 
when apprehended ; and the counsel for the prosecution had 
dwelt on that appearance as conclusive evidence of their guilt. 
Having followed out all the direct evidence in the case, and 
shown the absolute futility of the whole, he then addressed 
himself to this poor attempt to bring testimony against his cli- 
ents out of their behavior when arrested, and set forth a prin- 
ciple which neither justice nor charity should ever overlook : 
" The witnesses on the j^art of the prosecution," says the a/Ivo- 
cate, "have testified that the defendants, when aiTested, mani- 
fested great agitation and alarm. Paleness overspread their 
faces, and drops of sweat stood on their temples. This satis- 
fied the witnesses of the defendants' guilt ; and they now state 
the circumstances as being indubitable proof This argument 
manifests, in those who use it, an equal want of sense and sen 
sibility. It is precisely fitted to the feelings of a buiB-bailift! 
In a court of justice it deserves nothing but contempt. Is there 
nothing that can agitate the frame, or excite the blood, but the 
consciousness of guilt 1 If the defendants were innocent, would 
they not feel indignation at this unjust accusation ? If they saw 
an attempt to produce false evidence against them, would they 
not be angry 1 And, seeing the production of such evi- 
dence, might they not feel fear and alarm ? And have indig- 
nation, and anger, and terror, no power to affect the human 
countenance, or the human frame ? Miserable, miserable, in- 
deed, is the reasoning which would infer any man's guilt from 
his atritation when he found himself accused of a heinous offense; 
■when he saw evidence M-hich he might know to be false and 
fraudulent brought against him ; when his house was filled, 
fi-om garret to cellar, by those whom he might esteem as false 
witnesses ; and when he himself, instead of being at liberty to 
observe their conduct and watch their motions, was a prisoner 



DARTMvOlTn COLLEGE CASE. 181 

in close custody in his own house, with the fists of a catchpoll 
clenched upon his throat." But it is impossible now, from any 
thing that remains, to give a just idea of the eloquence of that 
hour and place. It has gone, with nearly all the forensic elo- 
quence of him, who never had his superior in our courts, never 
to be recalled, perhaps never to be surpassed. 

On the 10th day of jSIarch, 1818, Mr. Webster made his 
first appearance before the supreme court of the United States 
at Washington ; and it is remarkable, that the cause which 
brought liim there was that of the trustees of Dartmouth Col- 
lege, his Alma Mater, against William II. Woodward, who 
represented in the suit the state of New Hampshire, !Mr. Web- 
ster's native state. The nature of the case, and the leading cir- 
cumstances connected with it, have been given with great clear- 
ness by Mr. Webster : " Tlie charter of 1769," says he, in the 
opening of liis argument, "created and established a corpora- 
tion to consist of twelve persons, and no more, to be called the 
'Trustees of Dartmouth College.' The preamble to the char- 
ter recites, that it is granted on the application and request of 
Eev. Eleazer Wheelock ; that Dr. Wheelock, about the year 
1754, established a charity school, at his own expense, and on 
his own estate and plantation ; that for several years, through 
the assistance of well-disposed persons in America, granted at 
his solicitation, he had clothed, maintained and educated a num- 
ber of native Indians, and employed them afterwards as mis- 
sionaries and schoolmasters among the savage tribes ; that, liis 
design promising to be useful, he had constituted the Rev. Mr. 
Whitakor to be his attorney, with power to solicit contribu- 
tions in England, for the further extension and carrrying on of 
nis undertaking ; that he had requested the Earl of Dartmouth, 
Baron Smith, j\Ir. Tliornton, and other gentlemen, to receive 
such sums as might be contributed, in England, towards sup- 
porting his school, and to be trustees thereof, for his charity, 
which these persons had agreed to do; that thereupon Dr. 



It- 

f 



182 WEBSTER AND 1119 MASTER-PIECES. 

Wheelock had executed to them a deed of trust, m pursuance 
of such agreement between him and them, and, for divers good 
reasons, had referred it to those persons to determine the place 
in which the school should be finally established. And, to en- 
able them to form a proper decision on tliis subject, had laid 
before them the several offers which had been made to him by 
the several governments in America, in order to induce him to 
settle and establish his school within the limits of such govern- 
ments for their own emolument, and the increase of learning 
in their respective places, as well as for the furtherance of his 
general original design. And, inasmuch as a number of the 
proprietors of land in New Hampshire, animated by the exam- 
ple of the governor himself and others, and m consideration 
that, without any impediment to its original design, the school 
might be enlarged and improved, to promote learning among 
the English, and to supply ministers to the people of that prov- 
ince, had promised large tracts of land, provided the school 
should be established in that province, the persons before men- 
tioned, having; weighed the reasons in favor of the several pla- 
ces proposed, had given the preference to this province, and to 
these offers. Tliat Dr. Wheelock therefore represented the ne- 
cessity of a legal incorporation, and proposed that certain gen- 
tlemen in America, whom he had already named and appointed 
in liis will to be trustees of his charity after his decease, should 
compose the corporation. Upon this recital, and in consid- 
eration of the laudable original design of Dr. Wheelock, and 
willing that the best means of education be established in New 
Hampshire, for the benefit of the province, the king granted 
the charter, by the advice of his provincial council. 

" The substance of the facts thus recited is, that Dr. Whee- 
lock had founded a charity, on funds owned and procured by 
himself; that he was at that time the sole dispenser and sole 
administratoi', as well as legal owner, of these funds ; that he 
had made Ms wQl, devising this property in trust, to contmue 



COLLEGE CASE CONTINUED. 183 

the existence and uses of the school, and appointed trustees ; 
that in this state of things, he had been invited to fix his school, 
permanently, in New HatBpshire, and to extend the design of 
it to the education of the youth of that province ; that, before 
he removed his school, or accepted this invitation, which his 
fi'iends m England had advised him to accept, he applied for a 
charter, to be gi*anted, not to whomsoever the king or govern- 
ment of the province should please, but to such persons as he 
named and appointed, namely, the persons whom he had al- 
ready appointed to be the future trustees of his charity by his 

NVill. 

"The charter, or letters patent, then proceed to create such a 
corporation, and to appoint twelve persons to constitute it, by 
the name of the 'Trustees of Dartmouth College ;' to have per- 
petual existence, as such corporation, and with power to hold 
and dispose of lands and goods, for the use of the college, with 
all the ordinary powers of corporations. They are in their dis- 
cretion to apply the funds and property of the college to the 
support of the president, tutors, ministers, and other officers of 
the college, and such missionaries and schoolmasters as they 
may see fit to employ among the hidians. There are to be 
twelve trustees forever, and no more ; and they are to have 
the right of filling vacancies occurring in their own body. The 
Eev. Mr. Wheelock is declared to be the founder of the col- 
lege, and is by the charter appointed first president, with power 
to appoint a successor by his last will. All proper powers of 
government, superintendence, and visitation are vested in the 
trustees. They are to appoint and remove all officers at their 
discretion ; fix their salaries, and assign tlieir duties ; and to 
make all ordinances, orders, and laws f<jr the government of 
the students. To the end that the persons, who had acted as 
depositaries of the contributions in England, and who had also 
been conti'ibutors themselves, might be satisfied of the good 
use of theu- contributions, the president was annually, or when 






184 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

required, to transmit to them an account of the progress of the 
institution and the disbursments of its funds, so long as they 
should continue to act in that trust. These letters patent are 
to be good and effectual, in law, against the king, his heirs and 
successors forever, without farther grant or confirmation ; and 
the trustees are to hold all and singular those privileges, advan- 
tages, liberties, and immunities, to them and their successors 
forever. 

"No funds are given to the college by this charter. A cor- 
porate existence and capacity are given to the trustees, with the 
privileges and immunities which have been mentioned, to enable 
the founder and his associates the better to manage the funds 
which they themselves had contributed, and such others as they 
might afterwards obtam. 

" After the institution thus created and constituted had ex- 
isted, unhiterruptedly and usefldly, nearly fifly years, the legis- 
lature of New Hampsliire passed the acts in question. 

" The first act makes the twelve trustees under the charter, 
and nine other individuals, to be appointed by the governor 
and council, a corporation, by a new name ; and to this, new 
corporation transfers all the property, rights, powers, liberties 
and privileges, of the old corporation ; with further power to 
establish new colleges and an institute, and to apply all or any 
part of the funds to those purposes ; subject to the power and 
control of a board of twenty -five overseers, to be appointed by 
the governor and council. 

" The second act makes further provisions for executing the 
objects of the first ; and the last act authorizes the defendant, 
the treasurer of the plaintiffs, to retain and hold their property, 
against their will." 

The declaration of the plaintiffs, who were the original twelve 
trustees, was that of " trover for the books of record, original 
charter, common seal, and other corpoi-ate property of the col- 
lege. The conversion was alleged to have been made on the 



COLLEGE CASE CON'TINUKD. 1S5 

7th day of October, 1816. The proper pleas were filed ; and 
by consent the cause was carried directly to the superior court 
of New Hampshire, by appeal, and entered at the JNIay term. 
1817. The general issue was pleaded by the defendant and 
joined by the plaintiffs. The facts in the case were then agreed 
upon by the parties, and drawn up in the form of a special ver 
diet, reciting the charter of the college and the acts of the lecis 
lature of the state, passed June and December, 1810, by 
which the said corporation of Dartmouth College was enlarged 
and improved^ and the said charter amended,^'' 

The question at issue between the parties was, whether the 
acts of the legislature of New Hampshire, which destroyed a 
corporation and made a new one, were binding upon the old 
corporation without its consent, if they were not contrary to the 
constitution* of the United States. 

"The cause was continued" — this is probably the language 
of Mr, Webster, though it is given under the name of ]\Ir. Ev- 
erett — "to the September term of the court in Rockingham 
county, where it was argued ; and at the November term of 
the same year, in Grafton county, the opuiion of the court was 
delivered by Chief Justice Richardson, in flivor of the validity 
and constitutionality of the acts of the legislature ; and judg- 
ment was entered for the defendant on the special verdict. 
Thereupon a writ of error was sued out by the original plain- 
tiffs, to remove the cause to the supreme court of the United 
States, where it was entered at the term of the court holden at 
Washington on the first Monday of February, 1818. The 
cause came on for argument on the 10th of March, 1818, be- 
fore all the judges. It was argued by Mr. Webster and Mr. 
Hopkinson for the plaintiffs in error, and by !Mr. Holmes (of 
Maine) and the attorney general (Mr. Wirt) for the defendant 
in error. At the term of the court holden in February, 1819, 
the opinion of the judges was delivered by Chief Justice Mar- 
shall, declaring the acts of the legislature unconstitutional and 



186 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

invalid, and reversing the judgment of the state court. The 
court, with the exception of Mr, Justice Duvall, were unan- 
imous." 

Such is a general account of Mr. Webster's first cause before 
that high tribunal where he was afterwards to stand as second 
to no living man. ' The eff(:)rt made at this time, in fiict, was 
the effort that lifted him far above his associates — above Hop- 
kinson, Holmes, and even Wirt — above Emmett and Pinck- 
ney themselves — above every American advocate, living or 
dead, with the exception before made of Alexander Hamilton. 
For feirness and clearness of statement, for research that left 
nothing below or beyond it, for apt and various learning, for a 
most powerful grasp of the trae points in the case, for thor- 
ough and incontrovertible logic, for a masterly force, felicity 
and fitness of expression, for every element, in truth, that goes 
in to constitute a peformance of power and genius, his argu- 
ment in this cause may be pointed to as almost a finished model 
of forensic eloquence. 

This masterly performance is not given in full in the works 
of Mr. Webster. The peroration is entirely wanting. This, 
if we are to judge from the opinions expressed of it by others, 
must have been possessed of transcendent power : " Mr. 
Webster's argument," says Mr. Ticknor, who edited the first 
collection of Mr. Webster's speeches, " is given in this volume ; 
that is, we have there the technical outline ; the dry skeleton. 
But those who heard him when it was originally delivered, still 
wonder how such diy bones could ever have lived with the 
power they there witnessed and felt. He opened his cause, as 
he always does, with perfect simplicity in the general statement 
of its fects, and then went on to unfold the topics of his argu- 
ment in a lucid order, which made each position sustain every 
other. The logic and the law were rendered irresistible. But 
as he advanced, his heart warmed to the subject and the occa- 
sion. Thoughts and feelings that had grown old with his best 



COLLEGE CASE CONTIKUED, 187 

affections, rose unbidden to liis lips. He remembered that the 
institution he was defending was the one where his own youth 
had been nurtured ; and the moral tenderness and beauty this 
gave to the grandeur of his thoughts, the sort of religious sen- 
sibility it imparted to the ui-gent appeals and demands for the 
stern fulfillment of what law and justice required, wrought up 
the whole audience to an extraordinary state of excitement. 
Many betrayed strong agitation, many were dissolved in tears. 
Prominent among them was that eminent lawyer and states- 
man, Robert Goodloe Hai'per, who came to him when he re- 
sumed his seat, evincing emotions of the highest gratification. 
When he ceased to speak, there was a perceptible interval be- 
fore any one was willing to break the silence ; and when that 
vast crowd separated, not one person of the whole number 
doubted that the man who had that day so moved, astonished, 
and controlled them, had ^^ndicated for himself a place at the 
side of the first jurists of the counti-y." 

The best account of this great performance, and of the effect 
it had upon those w^ho heard it, was drawn out, only a short 
time since, by the agency of the Hon. Rufus Choate, on the oc- 
casion of his delivering his remarkable discourse commemora- 
tive of Daniel Webster. It came to him from the pen of Pro- 
fessor Goodrich, of Yale College, who went to Washington on 
purpose to hear Mr. Webster : " Before going to Washing- 
ton," says Dr. Goodiich, "which 1 did chiefly for the sake of 
hearing Air. Webster, I w-as told that, in arguing the case at 
Exeter, New Hampshire, he had left the whole court-room in 
tears at the conclusion of his speech. This, I confess, struck 
me unpleasantly — any attempt at pathos on a purely legal 
question like this, seemed hardly in good taste. On my way 
to Washington, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Webster. 
We were together for several days in Philadelphia, at the 
house of a common friend ; and as the college question was 
one of deep interest to literary men, we conversed often and 



188 WEBSTER XSO HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

largely on the subject. As he dwelt on the leading points of 
the case, in terms so calm, simple, and precise, I said to myself 
more than once, in reference to the story I had heard, 'What- 
ever may have seemed appropriate in defending the college at 
home, and on her own ground, there will be no appeal to the 
feelings of Judge Marshall and his associates at Washinfrton.' 
Tlie supreme court of the United States held its session, that 
wmter. in a mean apartment of moderate size, the capitol not 
having been built after its destruction in 1814. The audience, 
when the case came on, was therefore small, consisting chiefly 
of legal men, the ^lile of the profession throughout the coun- 
try. Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm tone 
of easy and dignified conversation. His matter was so com- 
pletely at his command that he scarcely looked at his brief^ 
but went on for more than four hours with a statement so lu- 
minous, and a chain of reasoning so easy to be understood, 
and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demonsti'ation, that 
he seemed to carry with him every man of his audience with- 
out the slightest effort or weariness on either side. It waa 
hardly eloquence, in the strict sense of the term ; it was pure 
reason. Now and then, for a sentence or two, his eye flashed 
and his voice swelled into a bolder note, as he uttered some 
emphatic thought ; but he instantly fell back into the tone of 
earnest conversation, which ran throughout the great body of 
his speech. A single circumstance will show you the clearness 
and absorbing power of his argument : I observed that 
Judge Story, at the opening of the case, had prepared himself, 
pen in hand, as if to take copious minutes. Hour after hour I 
saw him fixed in the same attitude, but, as far as I could per- 
ceive, with not a note on his paper. The .argument closed, and 
/ could not discover that he had taken a single note. Others 
around me remarked the same thins, and it was amons the 
on dits of Washington, that a friend spoke to him of the fact 
with surprise, when the judge remarked, ' everything was so 



COLLEGE CASE CONTINUED. 189 

clear, and so easy to remember, that not a note seemed ne- 
cessary, and, in fact, I thought little or nothing about my 
notes.' 

" The argument ended. Mr. Webster stood for some mo- 
ments silent before the court, while ever}' eye was fixed in- 
tently upon him. At length, addressing the chief justice, Mar- 
shall, he proceeded thus : 

" ' This, sir, is my case ! It is the case, not merely of that 
humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land. 
It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution 
throughout our country — of all those great charities founded by 
the piety of our ancestors to alleviate human misery, and scat- 
ter blessings along the pathway of life. It is more ! It is, in 
some sense, the case of every man among us who has prop- 
erty of which he may be stripped, for the question is simply 
this : Shall our state legislatures be allowed to talce that 
which is not their own, to turn it from its original use, and ap- 
ply it to such ends or purposes as they, in their discretion, shall 
see fit? 

" 'Sir, you may destroy this little institution ; it is weak ; it 
is in your hands ! I know it is one of the lesser lights in the 
literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But 
if you do so, you must carry through your work ! You must 
extinguish, one after another, all those great lights of science, 
which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance 
over our land ! 

" ' It is, sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet, there 
are those who love it! ' 

" Here the feelings which he had thus fur succeeded in keep- 
ing down, broke kn-i\\. His lips quivered ; his firm cheeks 
trembled with emotion ; his eyes were filled witii tears, his 
voice choked, and he seemed struggling to the utmost simply 
to gain that mastery over himself" which might save him from 
an unmanly burst of feeling. I will not attempt to give you 



190 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the few broken words of tenderness in which he went on to 
speak of his attachment to the college. The whole seemed to 
be mingled throughout "s^ith the recollections of father, mother, 
brother, and all the trials and privations through wliich he had 
made his way into life. Every one saw that it was wholly 
unpremeditated, a pressure on his heart, which sought relief in 
words and tears. 

"The court-room during these two or three minutes pre- 
sented an extraordinary spectacle. Qiief Justice IMarshall, 
with his tall and gaunt figure bent over as if to catch the slight- 
est whisper, the deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emo- 
tion, and eyes suffused with tears ; Mr. Justice Washington at 
his side, with his small and emaciated frame and countenance 
more like marble than I ever saw on any other human being — 
leaning forward with an eager, troubled look ; and the remain- 
der of the court, at the two extremities, pressing, as it were, 
toward a single point, while the audience below were wrapping 
themselves round in closer folds beneath the bench to catch 
each look, and every movement of the speaker's face. If a 
painter could give us the scene on canvas — those forms and 
countenances, and Daniel Webster as he then stood in the 
midst, it would be one of the most toucliing pictures in the his- 
tory of eloquence. One thing it taught me, that the pathetic 
depends not merely on the words uttered, but still more on the 
estimate we put upon him who utters them. There was not 
one among the strong-minded men of that assembly who could 
think it unmanly to weep, when he saw standing before him 
the man who had made such an argument, melted into the ten- 
derness of a child. 

" Mr. Webster had now recovered lois composure, and fix- 
ing his keen eye on the chief justice, said, in that deep tone 
\s\\\\ which he sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience : 

"'Sir, I know not how others may feel,' (glancing at the oppo- 
nents of the college before him, some of whom were its for- 



COLLEGE CASE COKCLUDED, 191 

mer graduates,) 'but, for myself, when I see my Alma Mater 
surrounded, like Caesar in the senate house, by those who are 
reiterating stab upon stab, I would not, for this right hand, 
have her turn to me, and say, Et tu quoque mi Jill ! And 
thou too, my son!^ 

" He sat down. There was a death-like stillness throughout 
the room for some moments ; every one seemed to be slowly 
recovering hunself, and coming gradually back to his ordinary 
range of thought and feeling." 

Were we forming a judgment of this great addi-ess, merely 
as a rhetorical performance, it would be quite sufficient to have 
the testimony of literary men ; but the philosophical reader 
will wish to know how it stood among gentlemen of the law. 
The opinion of the legal profession, perhaps without an excep- 
tion, has been given by George S. Ilillard, Esq., himself a law- 
yer of eminence, and a iiteraiy man of rismg reputation. "The 
Dartmouth College case," says ilr. Hillard, "which has al- 
ready been mentioned, may be briefly referred to again, since 
it forms an important era in Mr. Webster's life. His argu- 
ment in that case stands out among his other arguments, as his 
speech in reply to ]\Ir. Ilayne, among his other speeches. No 
better argument has been spoken m the English tongue in the 
memory of any living man, nor is the child that is born to-day 
likely to live to hear a better. Its learning is ample, but not 
ostentatious ; its logic irresistible ; its eloquence vigorous and 
lofty. I have often heard my revered and beloved friend," 
Judge Story, speak with great animation of the effect he then 
produced upon the court. Tor the first hour,' said he, 'we lis- 
tened to him with perfect astonishment ; for the second hour, 
with perfect delight ; and for the tliird hour, with perfect con- 
viction.' It is not too much to «iy, that he entered tlie court 
on that day a comparatively unknown name, and lefl it with 
no rival but Pinckney. All the words he spoke on that occa- 
sion have not been recorded. When he had exhausted the re- 



192 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

sources of learning and logic, his mind passed naturally and 
simply into a strain of feeling not common to the place. Old 
recollections and early associations came over him, and the 
vision of his youth rose up. The genius of the institution 
where he was nurtured sc^mod standing by his side in weeds 
of mourning, with a coimtenance of sorrow. With siiffiised 
eyes, and faltering voice, he broke into an unpremeditated 
strain of emotion, so strong and so deep, that all who heard him 
were borne along with it. Heart answered to heart as he 
spoke, and, when he ceased, the silence and tears of the impas- 
sive bench, as well as of the excited audience, were a trilwte to 
the truth and power of feeling by which he had been inspired." 
In the j^ear 1820, the District of Maine, formerly belongii:g 
to Massachusetts, became a state ; it was necessary, in conse- 
quence of this fact, that the manner of constituting the Massa- 
chusetts senate should be revised ; and this necessity led to a 
convention, which had power given it to revise the constitution 
of the commonwealth. At that time, Mr. Webster had been 
but four years a citizen of Boston ; but they had been such 
years of triumph, that he was at once appointed a member of 
tlie convention. In that capacity, he was brought into imme- 
diate contact with much of the first talent of the state ; the ven- 
erable John Adams, ex-president of the United States, now 
eighty-six years of age, was a member of the convention ; but 
Mr. Webster was welcomed as warmly as any other member 
of the body. So highly were his talents and discretion es- 
teemed, that he was made chairman of the committee on oaths 
as a qualification for office, the most delicate and difficult topic 
that was to come before the convention. After no little delib- 
eration and discussion in the committee, he reported an amend- 
ment to the sixth chapter of the second part of the old consti 
tution, the general import of which vras, that, instead of the re- 
ligious oaths and ecclesiastical subscriptions formerly reqiiiix'd, 
whidi shut out from public employment all who did not make 



MEMBER OF CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION. 193 

an external profession of religion, a simple oath of allegiance 
to the commonwealth and of a purpose to serve the state with 
fidelity and integrity Avas all that should afterwards be re- 
quired as a religious qualification for any office, hi defense of 
this new principle, he made a brief but characteristic speech, in 
w^hich he expressly concedes the right which tlie people have, 
if they see fit, to affix any qualification, religious or otherwise, 
as a test of office ; but, at the same time, ho argues against the 
expedienaj of any such test, particularly in ]\£assachusetts, 
where the general sentiment of the people is favorable to Chris- 
tianity. He thinks, however, that some recognition of the 
christian religion ought to be comprised within the constitution 
of the state; and he is the more willing to dispense with the 
test oath, because in the new instrument there is retained a pas- 
sage, which makes the strongest acknowledgment of the provi- 
dence of God and the blessings of his revealed word. " I be- 
lieve I have stated," says Mr. Webster, in the conclusion of his 
speech, "the substance of the reasons which appeared to have 
weight with the committee. For my own part, finding this 
declaration in the constitution, and hearing of no practical evil 
resulting from it, I should have been willing to retain it, unless 
considerable objection had been made to it. If others were 
satisfied with it, I should be. I do not consider it, however, es- 
sential to retain it, as there is another part of the constitution 
which recognizes, in the ftdlcst manner, the benefits which civil 
society derives from those christian institutions which cherish 
piety, morality, and religion. I am clearly of opinion, that we 
should not strike out of the constitution all recognition of the 
christian religion. I am desirous, in so solemn a transaction as 
the establishment of a constitution, that we should keep in it an 
expression of our respect and attachment to clu-istianity — not, 
mdeed, to any of its peculiar forms, but to its general principles." 
While a member of this convention, Mr. Webster delivered 
another speech, on the Basis of the Senate, which has been 



194 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

made the foundation of a charge, long retained and frequently 
repeated, against his political reputation. It is the charge, that, 
at this time, and in this critical business, he gravely advocated 
the propriety of making property the basis of representation. 
This charge is ^yilhout foundation. It has been urged chiefly 
by newspaper politicians, who, perhaps, never read the speech 
which was made the ground of the charge. It has been made, 
and urged, and repeated by men, who had no great amount of 
discrimination, or who did not intend to give a perfectly fair 
account of Mr. Webster. The truth is, in fact, not that Mr. 
Webster would have made property the basis of representa- 
tion in jMassachusetts, but tliat he thought it wise to make it a 
basis — that property should be respected as well as persons — 
in the constitution of a mixed government, where persons and 
property are the objects of all legislation, and where prop- 
erty has to pay for the protection which the government gives 
to persons. The doctrine he advocated was only the doctrine 
of the Revolution, that representation and taxation should al- 
ways go together. This principle, however, he did not wish to 
apply to representation in general, but only to the constitution 
of the senate, the senate of Massachusetts. As the house, ac- 
cording to other provisions of the new constitution, was to bo 
the popular branch, representing the people as persons, he 
thought it expedient that the senate should represent the same 
people as holders of property, that both property and persons 
might be represented, and thus effect a balance between the 
two great interests which are known as the exclusive topics in 
all governments, in all jurisprudence, in all legislation. He 
thought with Aristotle, with Bacon, with Sir Walter Raleigh, 
with i\Iontesquieu, with Hrirrington, whom the fathers of the 
nation most admired, most read, most trusted, not that the 
property of the rich only should be acknowledged as an exist- 
ing fact in a free government, but that all the property of the 
commonwealth, the poor man's shilling as much as the land- 



OKATION AT PLYMOUTH 195 

lord's acre, sliould be recoguizcd, respected and represented 
somewhere ; and, in the case before him, and for the reason 
just mentioned, he thought that that recognition, respect and 
representation could, with tlie greatest propriety, be permitted 
to exist in the senate. 

It was while Mr. "Webster was a member of the constitu- 
tional convention of ]Massachusetts, that he was called upon by 
the Pilgrim Society at Plymouth, to deliver an addi'ess on the 
occurrence of the centennial celebration of the landing of the 
Pilgrim Fathers. The invitation was an honorable but merited 
distinction for Mr. Webster. If the reader will remember 
how many and w^hat able men, eloquent men, men able and 
eloquent in the highest stations, were then living in New En- 
gland, and even m Massachusetts, he will see how great an 
honor it was to a young man, then but thirty-eight years of age, 
to be summoned from the midst of his superiors in age and 
office to this high duty. ]\fassachusetts had no festival, as she 
has none now, comparable wth this for the hold it has upon 
the sympathies of the people. It is a festival, too, of the whole 
nation. All Americans turn to it, and turn to the ever mem- 
orable day, the 22d of December, as the birth-day, not of one 
republic, but of a continent of republics. Where was the man, 
who, with fitting character, dignity and eloquence, could stand 
up and represent Massachusetts, represent New England, rep- 
resent every state in the union, and do them all honor in the 
service 1 It was a young man, the son of a New England 
farmer, who, but a few years before, had been keeping an acad- 
emy in an obscure village, that he might assist a brother and 
pay up the expense of his own education. But it was Daniel 
Webster. In that name, even then, after all that had been 
seen of him, and heard from his lips, there was a confidence 
that would have trusted him anywhere, on any emergency, on 
the most august occasion. Well did he answer to that confi 
dencc. Nobly did he meet the expectations of his friends 

VOL. I. I 13 



196 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

and the demands of every American, The address then deh'v 
ered needs no comment. No extract will do it justice. No 
extract is needed. All Americans, even the children of onr 
schools, know it by heart. "The felicity and spirit," says his 
friend, Mi". Everett, " with which its descriptive portions are 
executed ; the affecting tribute which it pays to the memory of 
the Pilgrims ; the masterly exposition and analysis of those 
institutions to which the prosperity of New England, under 
Providence, is owing ; the eloquent inculcation of those great 
principles of republicanism on which our American common- 
wealths are founded ; the instructive survey of the past, the 
sublime anticipations of the future of America, have long since 
given this discourse a classical celebrity. Several of its soul- 
stirring passages have become as household words through- 
out the country. They are among the most fovorite extracts 
contained in the school-books. An entire generation of young 
men have derived from this noble performance some of their 
first lessons in the true principles of American republicanism. 
It obtained at once a wide circulation throughout the country, and 
gave to Mr. Webster a posititon among the popular writers and 
speakers of the United States scarcely below that which he had 
already attained as a lawyer and statesman. It is doubted 
whether any extra professional literary effort, by a public man, 
has attained equal celebrity." The reader should remember, 
as he reads this judgment, that it is Edward Everett, himself 
equal to any living American in the same department, who 
awards it. 

Tlie next legal case, that claimed the attention of Mr. Web- 
ster, was that of James Prescott, judge of probate of the county 
of Middlesex, who was tried on an impeachment before the 
senate of Massachusetts. The defense set up, and the speech 
delivered by Mr. Webster, can be referred to as being pre- 
cisely what the case demanded. This was a peculiarity of the 
great advocate. He always met tlie occasion. He met it fully 



DEFENSE OF JUDGE TRESCOTT, 197 

but exactly. He never tiicd to outdo the demand of his case 
for the sake of his reputation. There was no excess of learning, 
no striking of heavy blows merely to show that he could strike 
them, no indulgence of the low vanity of the mere barrister, 
but everything that could, in any way, help his client. His ex- 
pertness as a manager of a trial, and his sagacity as a speaker, 
in getting hold of any accidental fact, or circumstance, that could 
aid him in his work, were exhibited to good advantage in this 
defense. The concluding paragraphs of his peroration may 
be quoted as a fair specimen of his power of appeal to the 
highest sentiments and noblest feelings of a tribunal : 

" Mr. President, the case is closed. The fate of the respond- 
ent is in your hands. It is for you now to say, whether, from 
the law and the facts as they have appeared before you, you 
will proceed to disgi-ace and disfranchise him. If j-our duty 
calls on you to convict him, let justice be done, and convict 
him ; but, I adjure you, let it be a clear, undoubted case. Let 
it be so for his sake, for you are robbing him of that for wliich, 
with all your high powers, you can yield him no compensation ; 
let it be so for your own sakes, for the responsibility of this 
day's judgment is one which you must carry with you through 
life. For myself, I am willing here to relinquish the character 
of an advocate, and to express opinions by which I am prepared 
to be bound as a citizen and a man. And I say upon my honor 
and conscience, that I see not how, with the law and constitu- 
tion for your guides, you can pronounce the respondent guilty. 
I declare that I have seen no case of wilful and corrupt oflicial 
misconduct, set forth according to the requisitions of the con- 
stitution, and proved according to the common rules of cN-idencc. 
I see many things imprudent and ill-judged ; many things that I 
could wish had been otherwise ; but corruption and crime I do 
not see. 

" Su", the prejudices of the day will soon be forgotten ; the 
passions, if any there be, which have excited or favored this 



198 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

prosecution will subside ; but the consecpence of the judgment 
you are about to render will outlive both them and you. The 
respondent is now brought, a single, unprotected individual, to 
this formidable bar of judgment, to stand against the power and ■ 
authority of the state. I know you can crush him, as he stands 
before you, and clothed as you are with the sovereignity of the 
state. You have the power ' to change his countenance and to 
send him away.' Nor do I remind you, that your judgment is 
to be rejudged by the community ; and, as you have summoned 
him for trial to this high tribunal, that you are soon to descend 
yourselves from these seats of justice, and stctnd before the 
higher tribunal of the world. I would not fiil so much in re- 
spect to this honorable court as to hint that it could pronounce 
a sentence which the community will reverse. No, sir, it is 
not the world's revision which I would call on you to regard ; 
but that of your own consciences, when years have gone by and 
you shall look back on the sentence you ai'e about to render. 
If you send away the respondent, condemned and sentenced, 
from your bar, you are yet to meet him in the world on which 
you cast him out. You will be called to behold him a disgrace 
to his family, a sorrow and a shame to his children, a li^^ng 
fountain of grief and agony to himself 

" If you shall then be able to behold him only as an unjust 
judge, whom vengeance has overtaken and justice has blasted, 
you will be able to look upon him, not without pity, but yet 
without remorse. But if, on the other hand, you shall see, 
whenever and wherever you meet him, a victim of prejudice 
or of passion, a sacrifice to a transient excitement ; if you shall 
see in him a man for whose condemnation any provision of the 
constitution has been violated or any principle of law been 
. broken dowii, then will he be able, humble and low as may be 
his condition, then will he be able to turn the current of com- 
passion backward, and to look with pity on those who have been 
his judges. If you are about to visit this respondent with a 



DEFENSE OF JUDGE PRESCOTT. 199 

judgment which shall blast his house ; if the bosoms of the 
innocent and the amiable are to be made to bleed under your 
infliction, I beseech you to be able to state clear and strong 
grounds for your jjroceeding. Prejudice and excitement are 
transitory, and will pass away. Political expediency, in matters 
of judicature, is a false and hollow principle, and will never 
satisfy the conscience of liim who is fearful that he may have 
given a hasty judgment. I earnestly entreat you, for your own 
sakes, to possess yourselves of solid reasons, founded in ti'uth 
and justice, for the judgment you pronounce, which you can 
carry with you till you go down into your graves ; reasons 
which it will require no argument to revive, no sophistry, no 
excitement, no regard to popular flivor, to render satisfactory 
to your consciences ; reasons which you can appeal to in every 
crisis of your lives, and which shall be able to assure you, in 
your o■\^•n great extremity, that you have not judged a fellow- 
creature without mercy. 

" Sh*, I have done with the case of this individual, and now 
leave it in your hands. But I would yet once more appeal to 
you as public men ; as statesmen ; as men of enlightened 
minds, capable of a large view of things, and of foreseeing the 
remote consequences of important transactions ; and, as such, 
I would most earnestly implore you to consider fully of the 
judgment you may pronounce. You are about to give a con- 
struction to constitutional provisions which may adhere to that 
instrument for ages, either for good or evil. I may perhaps 
overrate the importance of this occasion to the public welfare ; 
but I confess it does appear to me that, if this body give its 
sanction to some of the principles which have been advanced 
on this occasion, then there is a power in the state above tho 
constitution and the law ; a power essentially arbitrary and 
despotic, the exercise of which may bo most dangerous. If 
impeachment be not under the rule of tho constitution and tho 
laws, then may we tremble, not only for those who may bo 



V 



200 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

impeached, but for all others. If the full benefit of every con- 
stitutional provision be not extended to the respondent, his case 
becomes the case of all the people of the commonwealth. The 
constitution is their constitution. They have made it for their 
own protection, and for his among the rest. They are not eager 
for his conviction. They desire not his ruin. If he be con- 
demned, without having his offenses set forth in the manner 
which they, by their constitution have prescribed, and in the 
manner wliich they, by their laws, have ordained, then not only 
is he condemned unjustly, but the rights of the whole people 
are disregarded. For the sake of the people themselves, there- 
fore, I would resist all attempts to convict by straining the 
laws, or getting over their prohibitions. I hold up before him 
the broad shield of the constitution ; if through that he be 
pierced and fall, he will be but one sufferer in a common ca- 
tastrophe." 

On the night of the 6th of August, 1830,* Mr. Webster 
delivered his argument on the trial of John Francis Knapp, for 
the murder of Joseph AVhite, Esq., of Salem, in the court-house 
of Essex county, ISIassachusetts. This argument is regarded as 
the great advocate's master-piece in this department of liis pro- 
fession. " The record of the causes celihres of no country or 
age," says IMr. Everett, " will flirnish either a more thrilling 
narrative, or a forensic effort of greater ability." The narra- 
tive is from the pen of the late Hon. Benjamin Merrill, of Sa- 
lem, who was connected with the trial ; and it is here given, 
with only a slight abridgment, as it is the only existing key to 
that wonderful speech, which has been looked upon, for a quar- 
ter of a century, not merely by a biographer, but by all the 
legal profession of the country, as Mr. Webster's greatest and 
grandest effort as a criminal lawyer : 

* Mr. Everett, by mistake, says the 6th ot April, 1S30 making the trial come the 
day before the murder. 



TRIAL OF JOHN FRANCIS KNAPP. 201 

"Joseph White, Esq," says the narrator, "was found mur- 
dered m his bed, in his mansion-house, on the morning of the 
7th of April, 1830. He was a wealthy merchant of Salem, 
eighty-two years of age, and had for many years given up ac- 
tive business. His servant-man rose that morning at six o'clock, 
and on going down into the kitchen, and opening the shutters 
of the window, saw that the back window of the east parlor 
■was open, and that a plank was raised to the window from the 
back yard ; he then went into the parlor, but saw no trace of 
any person having been there. He went to the apartment of 
the maid-servant, and told her, and then into !Mr. White's cham- 
ber by its back door, and saw that the door of his chamber, 
leading into the front entry, was open. On approaching the 
bed he found the bed-clothes turned down, and !Mr. White dead, 
his countenance pallid, and his night-clothes and bed drenched in 
blood. He hastened to the neighboring houses to make known 
the event. He and the maid-servant w-ere the only persons 
who slept in the house that night, except Mr. White himself, 
whose niece, ]\Irs. Bcckford, his housekeeper, was then absent 
on a visit to her daughter, at Wenham. 

" The physicians and the coroner's jury, who were called to 
examine the body, found on it thirteen stabs, made as if by a 
sharp dirk or poniard, and the appearance of a heavy blow on 
the left temple, which had fractured the skull, but not broken 
the skin. The body Avas cold, and appeared to have been life- 
less many hours. 

" On examining the apartments of the house, it did not ap- 
pear that any valuable articles had been taken, or the house 
ransacked for them ; there was a rouleau of doubloons in an 
iron chest in his chamber, and costly plate in other apartments, 
none of which was missing. 

" The perpeti-ation of such an atrocious crime, in the most 
populous and central part of the towi and in the most 
compactly built street, and under circvmistances indicating 



202 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the utmost coolness, deliberation, and audacity, deeply agi- 
tated and aroused the whole community ; ingenuity was bat 
fled in attempting even to conjecture a motive for the deed ; 
and all the citizens were led to fear that the same fate might 
await them in the defenseless and helpless hours of slumber. 
!For several days, persons passing through the streets might 
hear the continual sound of the hammer, while carpenters and 
smiths were fixing bolts to doors and fastenings to -svindows. 
Many, for defense, furnished themselves with cutlasses, fire- 
arms, and watch-dogs. Large rewards for the detection of the 
author or authors of the murder were offered by the heirs of 
the^ deceased, by the selectmen of the town, and by the gov- 
ernor of the state. The citizens held a public meeting, and ap- 
pointed a committee of vigilance, of twenty-seven members, to 
make all possible exertions to ferret out the offenders. 

" While the public mind was thus excited and anxious, it 
was announced that a bold attempt at liighway robbery was 
made in Wenham by three footpads, on Joseph J. Knapp, Jr., 
and John Francis Knapp, on the evening of the 27th of April, 
while they were returning m a chaise from Salem to their resi- 
dence in Wenham. They appeared before the mvestigating 
committee, and testified that, after nine o'clock, near the Wen- 
ham Pond, they discovered three men approaching. One came 
near, seized the bridle, and stopped the horse, while the other 
two came, one on each side, and seized a trunk in the bottom 
of the chaise. Erank Knapp drew a sword from his cane and 
made a thrust at one, and Joseph with the but-end of his whip 
gave the other a heavy blow across the face. This bold resist- 
ance made them fall back. Joseph spnmg from the chaise to 
assail the robbers. One of them then gave a shrill whistle, when 
they fled, and, leapmg over the wall, were soon lost in the ■ 
darkness. One had a weapon like an ivory dirk-handle, was 
clad in a sailor's short jacket, cap, and had whiskers ; another 
wore a long coat, with bright buttons ; all three Avere good- 



TRIAL OF KNAPP CONTINUED. 203 

sized men. Frank, too, sprung from the chaise, and pursued 
■with vigor, but all in vain. 

" The account of this unusual and bold attempt at robbery, 
thus given by the Knapps, was immediately published in the 
Salem newspapers, with the editorial remark, that ' these gen- 
tlemen are well known in this town, and their respectability 
and veracity are not questioned by any of our citizens.' 

" Not the slightest clew to the murder could be found for 
several weeks, and the mystery seemed to be impenetrable. 
At length a rumor reached the car of the committee that a 
prisoner in the jail at New Bedford, seventy miles from Salem, 
confmed there on a charge of shop-lifting, had intimated that he 
could make important disclosures. A confidential messenger 
was immediately sent, to ascertain what he knew on the sub- 
ject. The prisoner's name was Hatch ; he had been commit- 
ted before the mm-der. He stated that, some months before 
the murder, while he was at large, he had associated in Salem 
with Eichard Ci'owiinsliield, Jr., of Danvers, and had often 
heard Ci-owninshield express his mtehtion to destroy the life of 
Mr. White. Crowninshield was a young man, of bad reputa- 
tion ; though he had never been convicted of any oftense, he 
was strongly suspected of several heinous robberies. lie was 
of dark and reserved deportment, temperate and wicked, daring 
and wary, subtle and obdurate, of great adi'oitness, boldness, 
and selfcommand. He had for several years frequented the 
haunts of \'ice in Salem ; and though he was often spoken of as 
a dangerous man, his person was known to few, for he never 
walked the streets by daylight. Among his few associates, he 
was a leader and a despot. 

" The disclosures of Hatch received credit. When the su- 
preme court met at Ipswich, the attorney-general, ISIorton, 
moved for a writ of habeas corpus ad testif., and Hatch was 
carried in chains from New Bedford before the gi-and jury, and 
on his testimony an indictment was found against Crownin- 

VOL. I. I* 



204 WEBSTER AXD HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

shield. Other witnesses testified that, on the night of the mur- 
der, his brother, George Crowninshield, Colonel Benjamin Sel- 
man, of Marblehead, and Daniel Cliase, of Lynn, were together 
in Salem, at a gambling-house usually frequented by Richard ; 
these were indicted as accomplices in the crime. They were all 
arrested on the 2d of May, arraigned on the indictment, and 
committed to prison to await the sitting of a court that should 
have jurisdiction of the offense. 

"The committee of vigilance, however, continued to hold 
frequent meetings in order to discover further proof, f jr it vras 
doubted by many whether the evidence already obtained would 
be sufficient to convict the accused. 

" A fortnight afterwards, on the 15th of jNIay, Captain Joseph 
J. Knapp, a shipmaster and merchant, a man of good clmracter, 
received by mail the following letter : 

'"Charles Grant, Jr., to Joseph J. Knapp. 

'''Belfast, May 12, 1830. 
"'Dear Sir — I have taken the pen at this time to address 
an utter stranger, and, strange as it may seem to you, it is for 
the purpose of requesting the loan of three hundred and fifty 
dollars, for which I can give you no security but my word, and 
in this case consider this to be sufficient. !My call for money 
at this time is pressing, or I would not trouble you ; but with 
that sum, I have the prospect of turning it to so much advan- 
tase, as to be able to refund it with interest in the course of 
six months. At all events, I think it will be for your interest 
to comply with my request, and that immediately — that is, not 
to put off any longer than you receive this. Then set down 
and inclose me the money with as much dispatch as possible, 
for your own interest. Tliis, sir, is my advice ; and if you do 
not comply with it, the short period between now and Novem 
ber will convince you that you have denied a request, the grant- 
ing of which will never injure you, the refusal of which will 



TRIAL OF KXAPP COKTIXUED. 205 

ruin Tou. Are you surprised at this assertion — rest assured 
that I malve it, reserving to myself the reasons and a series of 
facts, whieh are founded on such a bottom as will bid defiance 
to property or quality. It is useless for me to enter into a dis- 
cussion of facts Avhieh must inevitably harrow up your soul. 
No, I will merely tell you that I am acquainted with your 
brother Franklin, and also the business that he was transacting 
for you on the 2d of April last ; and that I think that you was 
very extravagant in giving one thousand dollars to the person 
that would execute the business for you. But you know best 
about that ; you see that such things will leak out. To con- 
clude, sir, I will inform you that there is a gentleman of iny 
acquaintance in Salem, that will observe that you do not leave 
towni before the first of June, giving you sufficient time between 
now and then to comply with my request ; and if I do not re- 
ceive a line from you, together with the above sum, before the 
22d of this month, I shall wait upon you with an assistant. I 
have said enough to convince you of my knowledge, and 
merely inform you that you can, when you answer, be as brief 
as possible. 

•" ' Direct yours to 

"'Charles Grant, Jr., of Prospect, Maine.' 

" This letter was an unintelligible enigma to Captain Knapp ; 
he knew no man of the name of Charles Grant, Jr., and had no 
acquaintance at Belfast, a town in !Maine, two hundred miles 
distant from Salem. After poring over it in vain, he handed 
it to his son, Nathaniel Phippen Knapp, a young lawyer ; to 
him also the letter was an inexjDlicable riddle. Tlie receiving 
of such a threatening letter, at a time when so many felt inse- 
cure, and were apprehensive of danger, demanded their atten- 
tion. Captain Knapp and his son Phippen, therefore, conclu- 
ded to ride to Wenham, seven miles distant, and show the 
letter to Captain Knapp's other two sons, Joseph J. Knaop, Jr., 



^06 WEBSTER AKD HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

and John Francis Knapp, who were then residing at Wenham 
with Mrs. Beckford, the niece and Lite housekeeper of Mr. 
White, and the mother of the wife of J. J. Knapp, Jr. The 
latter perused the letter, told his father it ' contained a devilish 
lot of trash,' and requested him to hand it to the committee 
of vigilance. Captain Knapp, on his return to Salem that 
evening, accordingly delivered the letter to the chairman of the 
committee. 

" Tlie next day J. J. Knapp, Jr., went to Salem, and re- 
quested one of his fi-iends to drop into the Salem post-office 
the two following pseudonymous letters. 

«'!% 13, 1830. 
'"Gentlemen of the Committee of Vigilance, — Hear- 
ing that you have taken up four young men on suspicion of 
being concerned in the murder of Mr. AYliite, I tliink it time to 
inform you that Stephen White came to me one night and told 
me, if I would remove the old gentleman, he would give me 
five thousand dollars ; he said he was afi-aid he would alter his 
will if he lived any longer. I told him I would do it, but I 
was afeared to go into the house, so he said he would go with 
me, that he would try to get into the house in the evening and 
open the window, would then go home and go to bed and meet 
me again about eleven. I found him, and we both went into 
his chamber. I struck him on the head mth a heavy piece of 
lead, and then stabbed him ^vith a dirk ; he made the finishing 
strokes with another. He promised to send me the money 
next evening, and has not sent it yet, wliich is the reason that 
I mention tliis. Yours, &c., 

' 'Grant.' 

"This letter was directed on the outside to the 'Hon. Gideon 
Barstow,' Salem, and put into the post-office on Sunday even- 
ning, May 16, 1830. 



TRIAL OF KKAPP CONTINUED. 207 

'''Lijnn,Ma7j 12, 1830. 
" 'Mr. "Wliite ^vill send the §5,000, or a part of it, before to- 
morrow iiiglit, or suffer the painful consequences. 

"'N. Claxton, 4tii.' 

" This letter was addressed to the ' Hon. Stephen Wliitc, 
Salem, ]\fass.,' and was also put into the post-oflUce in Salem 
on Sunday evening. 

" When Knapp delivered these letters to liis friend, he said 
his father had received an anonymous letter, and 'What I 
want you for is to put these lettei-s in the posl>oflicc in order 
to nip this silly affair in the bud.' 

" Tlie Hon. Stephen White, mentioned m these letters, was 
a nephew of Joseph White, and the legatee of the pruacipal part 
of tliis large property. 

" When the committee of vigilance read and considered the 
letter purporting to be signed by Charles Grant, Jr., which had 
been delivered to them by Captain Knapp, they were impressed 
with the belief that it contained a clew which might lead to im- 
portant disclosures. As they had spared no pains or expense 
in their investigations, they immediately despatched a discreet 
messenger to Prospect, in Maine ; he explained his business 
confidentially to the post-master there, deposited a letter ad- 
dressed to Charles Grant, Jr., and awaited the call for Grant to 
receive it. He soon called for it, when an officer, stationed in 
the house, stepped forward and arrested Grant. On examining 
him, it appeared that his true name was Palmer, a young 
man of genteel appearance, resident in the adjoining town of 
Be]fast. He had ])cen a convict in Maine, and had served a 
term in the state's prison in that state. Conscious that llie cir- 
cumstances justified the belief that he had had a hand in the 
murder, he readily made known, while he protested his o\vn 
innocence, that he could unfold the whole mystery. He then 
disclosed that he had been an associate of R. Crownin^hicld, Jr., 



208 WE13STER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

and George Crowninshlcld ; had spent part of the -winter at 
Danvers and Salem, under the name of Can* ; part of the time 
he had been their inmate, concealed in their flither's house at 
Danvers ; that on the 2d of April he saw from the windows 
of the house Frank Knapp and a young man named Allen ride 
up to the house ; that George walked away with Frank, and 
Richard with Allen ; that on their return, George told Richard 
that Frank wished them to undertake to kill Mr, White, and 
that J. J. Knapp, Jr., would pay one thousand dollars for the 
job. They proposed various modes of executing it, and asked 
Palmer to be concerned, which he declined. George said the 
housekeeper would be away at the time ; that the object of Jo- 
seph J. Knapp, Jr., was to destroy the -will, because it gave 
most of the property to Stephen White ; that Joseph J. Knapp, 
Jr., was first to destroy the ^nll ; that he could get from the 
housekeeper the keys of the iron chest in which it was kept ; 
that Frank called again the same day, in a chaise, and rode 
away with Richard ; and that on the night of the murder 
Palmer staid at the Half-way House, in Lynn. 

" The messenger, on obtaming tliis disclosure from Palmer, 
without delay communicated it by mail to the committee, and 
on the 26th of May, a warrant was issued against Joseph J. 
Knapp, Jr., and Jolin Francis Knapp, and they were taken into 
custody at Wenham, where they were residing ui the family 
of Mrs. Beckford, mother of the wife of Joseph J. Knapp, Jr. 
They were then imprisoned to await the arrival of Palmer, for 
their examination. 

" The two Knapps were young sliipmasters, of a respectable 
family. 

" Joseph J. Knapp, Jr., on the third day of his imprison 
ment, made a full confession that he projected the murder. 
He knew that Mr. White had made his will, had given to Mrs. 
Beckford a legacy of fifteen thousand dollars ; but if he died 
without leaving a will, he expected she would inherit nearly 



TRIAL OF KN'Al'P CONTINUED, 209 

two hundred thousand dollars. In February he made known 
to his brother his desire to make way with oSIr. Wliite, intend- 
ing first to abstract and destroy the will. Frank agreed to 
employ an assassin, and negotiated with li. Ci-owninshicld, Jr., 
who agreed to do the deed for a reward of one thoustmd dol- 
lars ; Joseph agreed to pay that sum, and as he had access to 
the house at his pleasui'e, he was to unbar and unfasten the 
back window, so that Crowninshield might gain easy entrance. 
Four days before the murder, while they were deliberating on 
the mode of compassing it, he went into ^Mr. White's chamber, 
and, fuiding the key in the iron chest, unlocked it, took the 
will, put it in his chaise-box, covered it with hay, carried it to 
Wenham, kept it till after the murder, and then burned it. 
After securing the wUl, he gave notice to Cro\Miinshield that all 
was ready. In the evening of that day he had a meeting with 
Crowninshield at the centre of the common, who showed him 
a bludgeon and a dagger, with which the murder was to be 
committed. Knapp asked him if he meant to do it that night ; 
Crowninshield said he thought not, he did not feel like it ; 
Knapp then went to Wenliam. Knapp ascertained on Sunday, 
the 4th of April, that Mr. White had gone to take tea with a 
relative in Cliestnut-street. CrowTiinshield intended to dirk 
him on his way home in the evening, but Mr. White returned 
before dark. It was next arranged for the night of the 6th, and 
Knapp was on some pretext to prevail on Mrs. Beckford to 
visit her daughters at Wenham, and to spend the night there. 
He said that, all preparations being thus complete, Crownin 
shield and Frank met about ten o'clock in the evening of the 
0th, in Bro^^^l-street, which passes the rear of the gai'den of 
j\Ir. W^hite, and stood some time in a spot from which they 
could observe the movements in the house, and perceive when 
Mr. White and his two sei-vjmts retired to bed. Crowninshield 
requested Frank to go home ; he did so, but soon returned to 
the same spot. Crowninshield, in the mean time, had started 



210 WEBSTEU AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

and passed round through Newbury-street and Essex-street to 
the front of the house, entered the postern gate, passed to the 
rear of the house, placed a plank against the house, climbed to 
the window, opened it, entered the house alone, passed up the 
staircase, opened the door of the sleeping-chamber, approached 
the bedside, gave Mr. Wliite a heavy and mortal blow on the 
head with a bludgeon, and then with a dirk gave him many 
stabs in his body. Crowninshield said, that after he had 'done 
for the old man,' he put his fingers on his pulse to make cer- 
tain he was dead. He then retired from the house, hurried 
back through Brown-street, where he met Frank, waiting to 
learn the event. Crowninshield ran down Howard-street, a 
solitary place, and hid the club under the steps of a meeting- 
house. He then went home to Danvers. 

" Joseph confessed ftirther that the account of the Wenham 
robbery, on the 27th of April, was a sheer fabrication. After 
the murder, Crownhishield went to Wenham in company with 
Frank to call for the one thousand dollars. He was not able 
to pay the v.'hole, but gave him one hundred five-franc pieces, 
Crowninshield related to him the particulars of the murder, told 
him where the club was hid, and said he was sorry Joseph had 
not got the right will, for if he had known there was another, 
he would have got it. Joseph sent Frank afterwards to find 
and destroy the club, but he said he could not find it. When 
Joseph made the confession, he told the place where the club 
was concealed, and it was there found ; it was heavy, made of 
hickory, twenty-two and a half inches long, of a smooth surface 
and larjie oval head, loaded with lead, and of a form adapted to 
give a mortal blow on the skull without breaking the skin ; the 
handle v.-as suited for a firm gi-asp. Crowninshield said he 
turned it in a lathe. Joseph admitted he wrote the two anon- 
ymous letters. 

" Crowninshield had hitherto maintained a stoical composure 
of feeling ; but when he was informed of Knapp's arrest, his 



TRIAL OF KXArP CONTINUED. 211 

knees smote beneath him, the sweat started out on his stem 
and pallid fiice, and he subsided upon his bunk. 

" Palmer was brought to Salem in irons on the 3d of June, 
and committed to prison. Crowninshield saw him taken from 
the carriage. He was put m the cell directly under that in 
which Crowninshield was kept. Several members of the com- 
mittee entered Palmer's cell to talk -w-ith him ; while they were 
talking, they heard a loud whistle, and, on looking up, saw that 
Ci-owninshield had picked away the mortar from the cre^"ice be- 
tween the blocks of the granite floor of his cell. After the 
loud whistle, he cried out, 'Palmer! Palmer!' and soon let 
do\Mi a string, to which were tied a pencil and a slip of paper. 
Two lines of poetry were written on the paper, in order that, 
if Palmer was really there, he would make it kno\vn by cap- 
ping the verses. Palmer shrunk away into a corner, and was 
soon transferred to another cell. He seemed to stand in awe 
of Ci'owninshield. 

" On the r2th of June, a quantity of stolen goods was found 
concealed in the barn of Ci'owninsliield, in consequence of in- 
formation from Palmer. 

"Ci-owninshield, thus finding the proofs of his guilt and de- 
pravity thicken, on the 15th of June committed suicide by 
hanging himself to the bars of his cell with a handkerchief. 
He left letters to his father and brother, expressing in general 
terms the viciousness of his life, and the hopelessness of escape 
from punishment. When his associates in guilt heard his fite, 
thoy said it was not unexpected by them, for they had often 
heard him say he would never live to submit to an ignomini- 
ous punishment. 

" A special term of the .supreme court was held at Salem on 
the 20th of July, for the trial of the prisoners charged with the 
murder ; it continued in session till the 20th of August, with a 
few days' intermission. An indictment for the murder was 
found against John Francis Knnpp, as principal, and Joseph J. 

VOL. I. 14 



312 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Knapp, Jr., and George Q-owninshield, as accessories. Selman 
and Chase were discharged by the attorney-general. 

" The pincipal, John Francis Knapp, was first put on trial. 
As the law then stood, an accessory in a murder could not be 
tried until a principal had been convicted. He was defended 
by Messrs. Franklin Dexter and William H. Gardiner, advo- 
cates of high reputation for ability and eloquence ; the trial was 
long and arduous, and the witnesses numerous. His brother 
Joseph, who had made a full confession, on the government's 
promise of impunity if he would in good faith testify the truth, 
was brought into court, called to the stand as a witness, but de- 
clined to testify. To convict the prisoner, it was necessary for 
the government to prove that he was j) resent, actually or con- 
structively, as an aider or abettor in the murder. The evi- 
dence was strong that there was a conspiracy to commit the 
murder, that the prisoner was one of the conspirators, that at 
the time of the murder he was in Brown-street at the rear of 
Mr. White's garden, and the jury were satisfied that he was in 
that place to aid and abet in the murder, ready to afford as- 
sistance, if necessary. He was convicted. 

" Joseph J. Knapp, Jr., was afi;erwards tried as an accessory 
before the fact, and convicted. 

" George G'owninshield proved an alibi, and was discharged. 

"The execution of John Francis Knapp and Joseph J. 
Knapp, Jr., closed the tragedy. 

" If Josepli, after turning state's evidence, had not clianged 
his mind, neither he nor his brother, nor any of the conspirators, 
could have been convicted ; if he had testified, and disclosed 
the whole truth, it would have appeared that John Francis 
Knapp was in Brown-street, not to render assistance to the as- 
sassin ; but that Crowninshield, when he started to commit the 
murder, requested Frank to go home and go to bed ; that 
Frank did go home, retire to bed, soon afi;er arose, secretly lefl; 
his father's house, and hastened to Brown-street, to await the 



TRIAL OF KNAPP CONTINUED. 213 

coming out of the assassin, in order to learn wliethcr the deed 
was accomplished, and all the partlcuhirs. If Frank had not 
been convicted as principal, none of the accessories could by- 
law have been convicted. Joseph would not have been even 
tried, for the government stipulated that, if he would be a wit- 
ness for the state, he should go clear. 

" The whole history of this occurrence is of romantic uiter- 
est. The murder itself, the coiyus delicti, was strange ; plan- 
ned with deliberation and sagacity, and executed with firmness 
and vigor. While conjecture was baffled in ascertaining either 
the motive or the perpetrator, it was ccrtuiji that the assassin 
had acted upon design, and not at random. He must have 
had knowledge of the house, f(jr the window had been un 
fastened from within. He had entered stealthily, threaded his 
way in silence through the apartments, corridors, and stair- 
cases, and coolly given the mortal blow. To make assurance 
doubly sure, he inflicted many fatal stabs, 'the least a death to 
nature,' and staid not liis hand till he had deliberately felt the 
pulse of his victim, to make certain that life was extinct. 

" It was strange that Crowninshield, the real assassin, should 
have been indicted and arrested on the testimony of Hatch, 
who was himself in prison, in a distant part of the state, at the 
time of the murder, and had no actual knowledge on the 
subject. 

" It was very strange that J. J, Knapp, Jr., should have 
been the instrument of bringing to light the mystery of the 
whole murderous conspiracy ; for when he received from the 
hand of his father the threatening letter of Palmer, conscious- 
ness of guilt so confounded his faculties, that, instead of destroy- 
ing it, he stupidly handed it back, and requested his father to 
deliver it to the committee of vicilanee. 

"It was strange that the murder should have been commit- 
ted on a mistake in law. Joseph, some time previous to the 
murder, had made inquiry how !Mr. White's estate would be 



214 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-riECES. 

distributed in case he died without a will, and had been erro- 
neously told that Mrs. Beckford, his mother-in-law, the sole 
issue and representative of a deceased sister of Mr. White, 
would inherit half of the estate, and that the four children and 
representatives of a deceased brother of Mr. White, of whom 
the Hon. Stephen White was one, would inhei'it the other half 
Joseph had privately read the will, and knew that Mr. White 
had bequeathed to Mrs. Beckford much less than half 

" It was strange that the murder should have been commit- 
ted on a Biistake in fact also. Joseph furtively abstracted a 
will, and expected Mr. White would die intestate ; but after 
the decease, the will, the last will, was found by his heirs in its 
proper place ; and it could never have been known or conjec- 
tured, without the aid of Joseph's confession, that he had made 
either of those blunders. 

" Fmally, it was a strange fact that Knapp should, on the 
night following the murder, have watched with the mangled 
corpse, and at the funeral followed the hearse as one of the 
chief mourners, without betraying on either occasion the slight- 
est emotion which could awaken a suspicion of his guilt." 

It so happened that the Hon. Rufus Clioate, the first of New 
England lawyers since the decease of Webster, listened to 
all the proceedings of this trial, and heard the speech of the ■ 
great advocate ; and his opinion of Mr. Webster's skill and 
tact, in the management of the trial, and of the overwhelming 
power and eloquence of his argument, he has given in a para- 
graph or sentence, which, after it has served its first and legiti- 
mate purpose, may be studied as a striking exemplification of 
the working of a vigorous and rapid mind struggling to give 
language to a conception almost too large and difficult for ut- 
terance. Speaking of the many great causes tried by Mr. 
Webster, in all of which a most remarkable combination of j 

talents was conspicuous, the learned and able gentleman pro- 
ceeds to draw a picture of the case under examination : " One 



>> 



TRIAL OF ENAPP CONTINUED. 215 

such," says he, "I stood in a relation to witness M'ith a compar-. 
atively easy curiosity, and yet with intimate and professional 
knowledge of all the embarrassments of the case. It was the 
trial of John Francis Knapp, charged with being present, aid- 
ing and abetting in the murder of Joseph White, m. which Mr. 
Webster conducted the prosecution for the commonwealth ; in 
the same year with his reply to ]\Ir. Hayne, in the senate ; and 
a few months later ; and when I bring to mind the incidents 
of that trial : the necessity of proving that the prisoner was 
near enough to the chamber in which the murder was being 
committed by another hand to aid in the act ; and was there 
with the mtention to do so, and thus in pomt of law did aid in 
it — because mere accessorial guilt was not enough to con^^ct 
him ; the difficulty of proving this — because the nearest point 
to which the evidence could trace him was still so distant as to 
warrant a pretty formidable doubt whether mere curisoity 
had not carried him thither; and whether he could in any 
useful or even conceivable manner have cooperated with the 
actual murderer, if he had intended to do so ; and because the 
only mode of rendering it probable that he was there with a 
purpose of guilt was by showing that he was one of the parties 
to a conspiracy of murder, whose very existence, actoi's and ob- 
jects had to be made out by the collation of the widest possi- 
ble range of circumstances — some of them pretty loose — and 
even if he was a conspirator, it did not quite necessarily follow, 
that any active participation was assigned to him for his part, 
any more than to his brother, who, confessedly, took no such 
part — the great number of witnesses to be examined and cross- 
examined, a duty devolving wholly on him ; the quick and 
sound judgment demanded and supplied to determine what to 
use and what to reject of a mass of rather unmanageable mate- 
rials ; the points in the law of evidence to be argued — in the 
course of which he made an appeal to the bench on the com- 
plete impunity which the rejection of the prisoner's confession 



216 "WECSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

would give to the murder, in a style of dignity and energy, I 
should rather say, of grandeur, which I never heard him equal, ■ 
before or after ; the high ability and fidelity with which every 
part of the defense was conducted ; and the great final sum- 
ming up to wliich he brought, and in which he needed, the ut- 
most exertion of every faculty he possessed to persuade the 
jury that the obligation of that duty, the sense of which, ho 
said, 'pursued us ever : it is omnipresent like the Deity : if we 
take the wmgs of the morning and dwell m the uttermost parts 
of the sea, duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us for 
our happiness or misery ' — to persuade them that this obliga- 
tion demanded that on liis proofs they should convict the pris- 
oner : to which he brought first the profound belief of his guilt, 
without which he could not have prosecuted him ; then skill 
consummate in inspiring them with a desire or a willingness to 
be instrumental in detecting that guilt ; and to lean on him in 
the effort to detect it ; then every resource of professional abil- 
ity to break the force of the propositions of the defense, and to 
establish the truth of his own : inferrmg a conspiracy to which 
the prisoner was a party, from circumstances acutely ridiculed 
by the able counsel opposing him as 'Stufl^' — but woven by 
him mto strong and uniform tissue ; and then bridging over 
fi-om the conspiracy to the not very necessary inference that 
the particular conspirator on trial was at his post, in execution 
of it, to aid and abet — the picture of the murder with 
wliich he had begun — not for rhetorical display, but to inspire 
solemnity, and horror, and a desire to detect and punish for 
justice and for security ; the sublime exhortation to duty with 
which he closed — resting on the universality, and authoritative- 
ness and eternity of its obligation — which left in every juror's 
mind the impression that it was the duty of convicting in this 
particular case, the sense of which would be with him in the 
hour of death, and in the judgment, and forever — with these 
recollections of that trial I cannot help thuilimg it a more diffi- 



KIS PRE-EMINENCE ACKNOWLEDGED. 2] 7 

cult and higher eflbrt of mind tlian that more famous 'Oration 
for the Crown.'" 

Eminent as these cases were, and eminent as were the ex- 
hibitions of legal talent which they called forth, they are by no 
means the only cases, or the only exhibitions of the kind, to be 
referred to in proof of the unexampled furensic ability of Mr. 
Webster. They are only specimens. They are the specimens 
pertaining to this period of his history. His entire professional 
life, however, was full of such exhibitions. The amount of la- 
bor performed by him as a lawyer, in all the departments of 
the profession, from the ordinary to the highest and most august 
tribunal of the country, can scarcely be appreciated except by 
lawyers, or by a person whose life lias been particularly con- 
versant with the profession. " While Mr. Webster, as a poli- 
tician and a statesman," says Mr. Everett, "has performed an 
amount of intellectual labor, sufficient to form the sole occupa- 
tion of an active life, there is no doubt that his arguments to 
the court, and his addresses to the jury, in important suits at 
law, would, if they had been reported like his political 
speeches, have filled a much greater space ;" and the able but 
brief biographer of his friend might as justly liavc added, that 
the labor bestowed in the examination and general treatment 
of his cases cost him more real toil, and required a more thor- 
ough employment of his transcendent talents, than the preparar 
tion of all his arguments, addresses and speeches, legal and po- 
litical. The professional work actually performed by his mJnd, 
during the forty-five years of his public life, if given at the same 
length as his published efforts, could scarcely have been printed in 
less than several scores of volumes. And then, when it is con 
sidcred how that work was performed, how every pai't of it 
was executed, what perfection and power were stamped upon 
all of it, the mind almost staggers at the contemplation. Or 
"if the mind of any will go on with the contemplation of this 
almost inconceivable isuccession of intellectual laljors of the hish- 



218 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

est order, and. of the grandeur .and glory of result to which 
it all tended, and unto which it finally attained, it can hardly 
do so in better temis, or under a better guide, than are fur- 
nished in the language of one whom it is scarcely possible not 
to quote upon this subject : " There presents itself," says Mr. 
Choate, "on the first, and to any observation of Mr. Webster's 
life and character, a two-fold emmence ; eminence of the very 
highest rank in a two-fold field of intellectual and public dis- 
play, the profession of the law, and the profession of statesman- 
ship, of which it would not be ejisy to recall any parallel in 
the biography of illustrions men. 

" Without seeldng for parallels, and without asserting that 
they do not exist, consider that he was by universal designation 
the leader of the general American bar ; and that he was also 
by an equally universal designation foremost of her statesmen 
living at liis death ; inferior to not one who has lived and acted 
since the opening of his o^nl public lile. Look at these aspects 
of his gi-eatness separately — and fi'om opposite sides of the sur- 
passing elevation. Consider that his single career at the bar 
may seem to have been enough to employ the largest faculties 
without repose, for a life time ; and that if then and thus the 
Hnfinitus forensium renim labor ^ should have conducted 
him to a mere professional reward — a bench of chancery or 
law — the crown of the first of advocates — jurisjieriiorum elo- 
gueniisshmis — to the pure and mere honors of a great magis- 
trate; that that would be .as much as is allotted to the ablest 
m the distribution of fame. Even that half — if I may say so 
— of his illustrious reputation — how long the labor to win it — 
how worthy of all that labor ! He v.'as bred first in the se- 
verest school of the common law, m which its doctrines wero 
expounded by Smith, and its administration shaped and di- 
rected by Mason, — and its foundation principles, its historical 
sources and ilkistrations, its connection with the parallel series 
of statutory enactmentSj its modes of reasoning, and the evi- 



PRE-EMINENCE UNIVERSALLY ACKNOWLEDGED. 219 

dencc of its truths, lie gi-asped easily and completely ; and I 
have myself heard him say, that for many years, while still at 
that bar, he tried more causes and argued more questions of 
fact to the jury, than perhaps any other member of the pro 
fession anywhere. I have heard from others how even then he 
exemplified the sainc direct, clear, and forcible exliibition of 
proofs, and the reasonings appropriate to proofs — as well as 
the same marvelous power of discerning instantly what we 
call the decisive points of the cause in law and fact — by which 
he v,as later more widely celebrated. Tliis was the first epoch 
m his professional training. 

" With the commencement of his public life, or Mith his later 
removal to this state, began the second epoch of his professional 
training — conducting him through the gradation of the national 
tribunals to the study and practice of the more flexible, elegant 
and scientific jurisprudence of commerce and of chancery — and 
to the grander and less fettered investigations of international, 
prize, and constitutional li'.w — and givuig him to breathe the 
air of a more famous forum ; in a more public presence ; with 
more variety of competition, although he never met abler men, 
as I have many times heard him say, than some of those who 
initiated him in the rugged discipline of the courts of New 
Hampshire ; and thus, at length, by these studies ; these la- 
bors ; this contention ; continued without repose, he came, now 
many years ago, to stand, omnium assensu, at the summit of 
the American bar." 

Such is not the judgment of one man only. It is the gen- 
eral judgment of the profession throughout the country. It is 
a judgment to which free expression has been given by such 
gentlOmen as Justice Sprague, of JNIassachusetts, Lewis Cass, 
of ^lichigan, Senator BulSer, of South Carol inn, Justice AVayne, 
of Georgia, and by every other distinguished lawyer, probably, 
in 'every portion of the Union. Not one dissent has ever 
found its way to the public eye. It must, therefore, go down 

VOL, I. J 



220 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

to future ages, as the common opinion of the legal profession 
of this age, that, of all the distinguished civilians, jurists, ad vocates^ 
lawyers, of the first half of the nineteenth century, there was 
not one found equal to Daniel Webster. " I shall submit it," 
says his friend and associate, Mr. Choate, — " I shall submit it to 
the judgment of the universal American bar, if a carefully pre 
pared opinion of Mr. Webster, on any question of law whatever, 
in the whole range of our jurisprudence, would not be accepted 
everywhere as of the most commanding authority, and as the 
highest evidence of legal truth 1 I submit it to that same judg- 
ment, if, for many years before his death, they would not have 
rather chosen to intrust the maintenance and enforcement of 
any important proposition of law whatever, before any legal 
tribunal whatever, to his best exertion of his faculties, than to 
any other ability, which the whole wealth of the profession 
could supply 1 " What a question is this, to be submitted 
with such confidence to such a tribunal, by a man, who, with 
the most apparent modesty, might well cherish the ambition 
of one day arriving at something like the same distinction ! 
This, certainly, is reaching the last beatitude of the Roman 
classic — laudatus laudatis ; and it should be remembered, that 
no case is referred, to, by any of the distinguished gentlemen 
whose opinion has been quoted, as a foimdation for that opin- 
ion, which came under the professional management of Mr. 
Webster after the age of forty ! If Alexander is to be forever 
celebrated as great, because, while yet a young man, he sub- 
dued the brute force of a barbarous age, how much greater 
should his fame be, who, almost as early in life, made a more 
perfect conquest of the free mind of the most enlightened age 
of which there is any account in history ! 



CHAPTER VIII. 

REPRESENTATIVE AND SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS. 

In the month of December, 1823, at the age of forty-one, 
Mr. Webster again took his seat in the house of representa- 
tives at Washington, as a representative for Boston. He had 
been elected, during the autumn of the previous year, by a 
very large majority, in preference to the claims of many very 
eminent native citizens of the district, though he had been him- 
self a citizen of the state for only about six years. His tal- 
ents, his general fame, gave him this precedence over all 
competition. 

The year of his second appearance in the halls of congress 
was the last year of the peaceful administration of Monroe. 
For seven years, there had been but few questions creating any 
differences of opinion ainongthe leading statesmen of the coun- 
try. The second war with England had embarrassed the cur- 
rency, involved the country in a heavy public debt, and so 
wounded the commerce and business of the nation, that it had 
seemed to be the duty, and it certainly had been the chief em- 
ployment, of the first public men to soothe, and heal, and har- 
monize the general feeling, and retrieve the results of former 
errors. While engaged in these tranquil labors, the attention 
of the country had been called to tlie heroic struggles of the 
modem Greeks, who, on a soil made classic by the genius of 
their ancestors, had been contending for their faith and their 
freedom against the tyranny and intolerance of the Turks. 
The whole civilized world had felt a strong sympathy in those 



222 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

struggles. England had sent her agents to watch the progress 
of the brave effort. France, Germany and Poland had kin- 
dled to enthusiasm in the cause of the young republic ; and, 
encouraged by these signs of sympathy, the " Messenian Sen- 
ate of Calamata," the political organization which represented 
the revolution, had sent appeals to several of the governments 
of Europe, and another of a peculiarly touching character to 
this counti-y. Such were the force and power of tliis appeal, 
that Mr. Monroe, in spite of his doctrine of non-interference, 
which he set up for his oavu country against all other countries, 
found it impossible to satisfy the expectations of the people, or 
tlie demands of his own conscience, without mentioning the 
cause of the Greeks in his last annual message. " A strong 
hope," says the peace-president, "has been long entertained, 
founded on the heroic struggle of the Greeks, that they would 
succeed in their contest, and resume their equal station among 
the nations of the earth. It is believed that the whole civilized 
world takes a deep interest in their welfare. Although no 
power has declared in their favor, yet none, according to our 
information, has taken part against them. Their cause and 
their name have protected them from dangers which might ere 
this have overwhelmed any other people. The ordinary calcu- 
lations of interest, and of acquisition with a view to aggrandize- 
ment, which mingle so much in the transactions of nations, 
seem to have had no effect in regard to them. From the facts 
which have come to our knowledge, there is good ground to 
believe, that then* enemy has forever lost all dominion over 
them, that Greece will become again an independent nation." 

With a view to making a suitable response to this portion of 
the presidential message, as well as for the purpose of giving 
congi-ess an opportunity of expressing an opmion concerning 
the Greek revolution, Mr. Webster read to the house, on the 
8th of December, the following resolution : " Resolved, Tlmt 
provision ought to be made, by law, for defraying the expense 



SPEAKS FOR THE GREEK REVOLUTIOIT. 223 

of an agent or commissioner to Greece, wlKiiL-ver the president 
shall deem it expedient to make such appointment." The res- 
olution took the usual course of such resolutions ; and, on the 
lOtli of January, 1824, the house having resolved itself into a 
committee of the whole, tlie resolution was taken up, and ^Ir. 
Webster defended and enforced it by a speech, which, regarded 
at the time as the greatest of his public efforts, has since been 
looked to as proof of some inconsistency of action. The al- 
leged inconsistency, chiefly urged during the visit of Louis Kos- 
suth to this country, and urged by those who could scarcely 
have read the speech in question, refers to the non-interfering 
policy, which, smce the days of Washington, has been the estab- 
lished policy of this country. It is said, that, in his Greek 
speech, Mr. Webster advocated the doctrine of interference ; 
but that when the Hungarians applied to our government for 
aid, after they had been betrayed and beaten by a combination 
of the Austrians and Russians, he suddenly took up and de- 
fended the policy of Washington. A very brief quotation, 
from the opening of the address, will be enough to repel this 
msinuation. " I might well, Mr. Chairman,''' says the speaker, 
" avoid the responsibility of this measure, if it had, in my judg- 
ment, any tendency to change the policy of the country. With 
the general course of that policy I am quite satisfied. The nation 
is prosperous, peaceful and happy ; and I should very reluctantly 
put its peace, prosperity and happiness at risk. It seems to 
me, however, that this resolution is strictly conformable to our 
general policy, and not only consistent with our interests, but 
even demanded by a large and liberal view of those interests. 
It is certainly true, that the just policy of this country is, in the 
first place, a peaceful policy. No nation ever had less to ex- 
pect from forcible aggrandizement. The mighty agents which 
are working out our greatness arc lime, industry, and the arts. 
Our augmentation is by growth, not by acquisition, by internal 
development, not by external accession. No schemes can be 



224 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

suggested to us so magnificent as the prospects which a sober 
contemplation of our own condition, unaided by projects, unin- 
fluenced by ambition, fairly spreads before us. A country of 
such vast extent, with such varieties of soil and climate, with 
so much public spirit and private enterprise, with a population 
increasing so much beyond former example, with capacities of 
improvement not only unapplied or unexhausted, but even, in 
a great measure, as yet unexplored — so free in its institutions, 
so mild in its laws, so secure in the title it confers on every 
man to his own acquisitions — needs nothing but time and peace 
to carry it forward to almost any point of advancement." 
These, as every careful reader of the works of Mr. Webster 
well knows, have always been his sentiments ; and, instead of 
seeking out a false appearance of vacillation, every such reader 
will rather wonder how a man yet young, almost at the begin- 
ning of his high career as a statesman, could so unerringly lay 
down a line of action, which should serve him, almost without 
exception, and with no exception of great moment, to the very 
last day of his long and illustrious life ! 

There is in this very speech, overlooked by friends and op- 
ponents alike, a beautiful specimen of his consistency of char- 
acter, and of the precocious wisdom of his early years. It will 
be remembered, that, in his speech before the " United Frater- 
nity," his college society at Dartmouth, he had spoken on the 
" Influence of Opinion," in which he maintained, that the world 
was no longer to be governed by arms, but by the common 
sentiments of the great nations. Now, in liis speech on the 
Greek revolution, he reproduces the same thought, ripened by 
the repose of more than twenty years, in language wliich even 
he has seldom equaled, and not more than once or twice sur- 
passed. Repelling the sneer, thrown out by certain members 
of the house, that, unless Mr. Webster would have the country 
take up arms for the Greeks, they knew not what he would 
have them do, he breaks forth : " Sir, this reasoning mistakes 



POWER OF PUBLIC OPINION, 225 

tho age. The time ha-s been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, 
and subsidies, were the principal reliances even in the best 
cause. But, happily for mankind, a great change has talien 
place in this respect, floral causes come into consideration, 
in proportion as knowledge is advanced ; and the ^jmJ/Zc opin- 
ion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascendency over 
mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the most for- 
midable obstruction to the progress of injustice and oppression; 
and as it grows more intelligent, and more intense, it will be 
more and more formidable. It may be silenced by military 
power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irrepressible, 
and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary warfare. It is 
that impassible, unextinguishable enemy of mere violence and 
ai-bitrary rule, wliich, like Milton's angels, 

' Vital in every part, 
Cannot, but by annihilating, die.' 

Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for power to 
talk of triumphs or repose. No matter what fields are deso- 
lated, what fortresses surrendered, what armies subdued, or what 
provinces overrun. In the history of the year that has passed 
by us, and in the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the 
vanity of all triumphs in a cause which violates the general 
sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing that the 
troops of France have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz ; it 
is nothing that an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen be- 
fore them ; it is nothing that arrests, and confiscation, and ex- 
ecution, sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. 
There is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these 
triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of 
his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, 
though silent, is indignant ; it shows him that the scepter of his 
victory is a barren scepter ; that it shall confer neither joy nor 
honor, but shall moulder to dry ashes in his gnis[\ In tho 



/ 



226 WEESTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

midst of his exultation, it pierces his ear with the cry of in 
jured justice ; it denounces against him the indignation of 
an enlightened and civilized age ; it turns to bitterness the 
cup of his rejoicing, and wounds him with the sting which 
belongs to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of 
mankind !^^ 

The question which next engaged the attention of Mr. Webster 
was the tariff bill, introduced by Mr. Clay, who, though again 
speaker of the house, had advocated the passage of his bill with 
his accustomed fervor and eloquence. It was a rather mixed 
bill, partly for protection, partly for revenue ; and, while it pro- 
tected some things that needed no protection, and could receive 
none, it left unprotected ether mterests, which, without some 
protection, as the policy of the country now stood, would en- 
tirely and necessarily languish. The position of Mr. Webster 
was peculiar, and even painful. Since the country had adopted 
the policy of protection, and millions of capital had been in- 
vested by the people in view of this policy, he sincerely desired 
to sustain some bill which should justly carry out tliis system. 
But the bill before him he could not support. It w^as a bill, in 
his opinion, which treated some portions of the country, and 
some great interests, which he himself was sent there to repre- 
sent, particularly the navigation interest, quite unfairly ; and, 
therefore, after Mr. Clay had made his gi-eat speech in behalf 
of what he pleased to term the American system, a speech 
requiring two days for its delivery, Mr. AVebster followed, on 
the first and second days of April, in a reply to Mr. Clay, 
which may be regarded as his first elaborate effort on the 
subject. That he was not now opposed to the principle of pro- 
tection, seeing the country had once adopted it, but only op- 
posed to several important particulars of the bill, is e\4dent 
from the opening paragraphs of his address : " I will avail m}'- 
self,"' he sayg, " of the present occasion, to make some remarks 
on certain principles and opinions which have been recently ad- 



CLAY AND -WEBSTER. 227 

Vconced, and on those considerations which, in my judgment, 
ought to govern us in deciding upon the several and respective 
parts of tliis very important and complex measure. I can truly 
say that tliis is a painful duty. I deeply regret the necessity 
which is likely to be imposed upon me of giving a general at 
firmative or negative vote on the whole of the bill. I cannot 
but think this mode of proceeding liable to great objections. 
It exposes both those who supjiort, and those who opp(jso the 
measure, to very unjust and injurious misapprehensions. There 
may be good reasons for favoring some of the provisions 
of the bill, and equally strong reasons for opposing others ; and 
these provisions do not stand to each other in the relation of 
principal and incident. If that were the case, those who are in 
favor of the principal might forego their opinions upon incidental 
and subordinate provisions. But the bill proposes enactments 
entirely distinct and different from one another, in character 
and tendency. Some of its clauses are intended merely for 
revenue ; and of those which regard the protection of home 
manufactures, one part stands upon very different grounds from 
those of other parts. So tliat probably every gentleman who 
may ultim.ately support the bill, will vote for much which his 
judgment does not approve ; and those who oppose it, will 
oppose something which they would very gladly support." 

This, it will be perceived, was the first occasion on which the 
two great champions of the house, and afterwards of the senate, 
and always of the two wings of their common party, directly 
met ; and, by a comparison of the two speeches then made by 
them, which were about equally elaborated, and of about an 
equal length, it would not be difficult to find fully exhibited, in 
deep contrast, their distinctive traits. Clay, who was by no 
mea»s without his facts, his. logic, his deductions, his array of 
argument, such as it always was, was nevertheless more pecu- 
liar, more striking, more effective, for his warm and even glow- 
ing manner of elocution, his exuberant fancy, his large sweep 
VOL, I. J* 15 



228 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of voice, his forcible gesticulation, his bold spirit, and that re- 
markable and winning confidence, which seemed to take the 
most absolute success as a thing already granted, even before 
he had done enough to justify such hope. Webster, on the 
other hand, rose before his hearers, as if he expected nothing, 
only that they should listen to him patiently and honestly till 
he had concluded, relying solely upon the strength of his posi- 
tion, and the force of his arguments, first for the conviction of 
their understandings, then for the assent of their wills, and 
last, for appropriate and timely action. It was said of the two 
great rivals of debate in the Athenian general assembly, that 
Demosthenes was the greater orator, but that Phocion was the 
more persuasive speaker ; and Demosthenes himself once said, 
when he saw his opponent entering the assembly, " there comes 
the pruner of my figures." There was something of the same 
relation between the two great rivals in the American assembly. 
Qay,however, though quite as vehement, perhaps, as Demosthe- 
nes, had nothing of his perfection and elaborate severity of 
diction. Webster, on the other hand, had the perfection and 
the severity of style of Demosthenes, but not his warmth of 
manner, hi one respect, the analogy will hold good. Clay 
was always making speeches, always speaking for immediate 
effect, always dealing in his flowers and weaving his garlands, 
or his chaplets ; and Webster, pleased with the fancy, and 
beautiful imagery, and rapt and racy style of his great oppo- 
nent, and as ready to do him justice, in these respects, as any 
one in Congress, was always apt, notwithstanding, if the occa- 
sion demanded, to get up, and, taking all the rhetoric to pieces, 
pick out the flowers, strip all do\Mi to the naked proposition, 
and then annihilate the proposition itself by a few strokes of 
his resistless logic. 

It was so in the debate now under examination. A single 
specimen may serve as a general example of the whole per- 
formance. Mr. Clay had characterized the complicated provis- 



SPEECH ON THE TARIFF. 229 

ions of his bill as the "American system," while he had very 
freely stigmatized the opposition as advocating what he pleased 
to call their " foreign policy." ]\Ir. Webster could not let this 
giving of bad names pass. "Allow me, sir," says he, near the 
opening of his speech, " in the first place, to state my regret, 
if indeed I ought not to state a warmer sentiment, at the names 
or designations which Mr. Speaker has seen fit to adopt for the 
purpose of describing the advocates and the opposers of the 
present bill. It is a question, he says, between the friends of 
an ' American policy,' and those of a ' foreign policy.' This, 
sir, is an assumption which I take the liberty most directly to 
deny. Mr. Speaker certainly intended nothing invidious or 
derogatory to any part of the house by this mode of de- 
nominating friends and enemies. But there is power in names; 
and this manner of distinguishing those who favor, and those 
who oppose particular measures, may lead to inferences to 
which no member of the house can submit. It may imply 
that there is more exclusive and peculiar regard to American 
interests in one class of opinions than in another. Such an 
implication is to be resisted and repelled. Every member has 
a right to the presumption, that he pursues what he believes to 
be the interest of his country, with as sincere a zeal as any 
other member, I claim this in my own case ; and while I 
shall not, for any purpose of description or convenient argu- 
ment, use terms which may imply any disrespect to other men's 
opinions, much less any imputation upon other men's motives, 
it is my duty to take care that the use of such terms by others 
be not, against the will of those who adopt them, made to pro- 
duce a false impression, hideed, sir, it is a little astonishing, 
if it seemed convenient to Mr. Speaker, for the purposes of 
distinction, to make use of the terms 'American policy ' and 
' foreign policy,' that he should not have applied them in a man- 
ner precisely the reverse of that in which he has in fact used 
them. If names are thought necessary, it would be well 



230 



"WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 



enough, one would think, that the name should be in some 
measure descriptive of the thing ; and since Mr. Speaker de- 
nominates the policy which he recommends ' a new policy in 
this country ; ' since he speaks of the present measure as a new 
era in our legislation ; since he professes to invite us to depart 
from our accustomed course, to instruct ourselves by the wis- 
dom of others, and to adopt the policy of the most distin- 
guished foreign states, — one is a little curious to know with 
what propriety of speech this imitation of other nations is de- 
nominated an 'American policy,' while, on the contrary, a pre- 
ference for our own established system, as it now actually ex- 
ists, and always has existed, is called a ' foreign policy.' This 
favorite American policy is what America has never tried ; and 
this odious foreign policy is what, as we are told, foreign states 
have never pursued. Sir, that is the truest American policy 
•which shall most usefully employ American capital and Amer- 
ican labor, and best sustain the whole population. With me, 
it is a fundamental axiom — it is interwoven with all my opin- 
ions, that the great interests of the country are united and in- 
separable ; that agriculture, commerce, and manufactures will 
prosper together, or languish together ; and that all legislation 
is dangerous which proposes to benefit one of these without 
looking to consequences which may fall on the others." 

It was during this congress that Mr. Webster delivered his 
noted argument in the case of Gibbons and Ogden. The state 
of New York, in gratitude or a sense of obligation to Robert 
Fulton for his invention of the steamboat, had passed several 
laws giving to him and to Robert R. Livingston exclusive 
privileges in the use of the invention upon the na\igable waters 
of that state. The first act of the kind had been passed on the 
19th of March, 1787, in favor of John Fitch, which gave him 
the right, not only of making but of using, every kind of boat 
or vessel worked by steam, in all creeks, rivers, bays and waters 
of the state for fourteen years. Fitch died without having 



CASE OF GIBBONS AND OGDEN. 231 

used his privilege ; and, consequently, on the application of 
Mr. Livingston, who professed to have in his possession a mode 
of applying the steam engine to the propelling of a boat, on a 
better principle than was known to Fitch, the state of New 
York repealed the first grant, and conferred similar privileges 
on the new applicant. A third act was passed, on the 5th of 
April, 1803, associating Fulton with Livingston, and extending 
the grant to twenty years from its date. On the 1 1th of April, 
1808, a fourth act was passed, extendmg the monopoly five 
years for every additional boat, the whole period, however, not 
to exceed thirty years ; and this enactment gave to Fulton and 
Livingston the additional right of selling patents, or grants, to 
other persons, who, without such patents, were forbidden the 
use of steam for the purposes of navigation within the state. 
So great, however, was the temptation to infringe upon this 
monopoly, that the legislature found it necessary to pass a 
fifth and final act, which is dated the 9th of April, 1811, and 
which forfeits any boat or vessel found navigating the waters 
of New York without this license, without the necessity of a 
trial or the judgment of any court. This exclusive privilege 
had descended to Aaron Ogden, who claimed all the benefits 
of all these acts against all persons whatsoever ; and he had, 
therefore, brought suit, in the courts of New York, against 
Thomas Gibbons, who was charged with running a boat pro- 
pelled by steam between New York city and the New Jersey 
shore. These courts, without exception, from the lowest to 
the highest having jurisdiction of the case, had decided for the 
plaintiff; and the cause had been carried by appeal firom the 
court of errors of the state of New York to the supreme court 
of the United States. Here Mr. Webster was given the man- 
agement of the case ; and it was here that he made that mas- 
terly argument, which not only reversed the decisions of all 
the New York courts, and pronounced all the acts of New- 
York unconstitutional, null and void, but added materially to 



232 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

his professional reputation. It was regarded by some eminent 
lawyers as superior to his argument in the Dartmouth College 
case ; and Judge Wayne, a quarter of a century after its de- 
livery, on the occasion of Mr. Webster's visiting Geor^a in 
the sprmg of 1847, fixed upon this argument as the great deed 
of Mr. Webster's life, desemng the gratitude and eulogy of 
the country. " From one of your constitutional suggestions," 
says the judge, in addressmg the honored guest of the state, 
" every man in the land has been more or less benefitted. 
We allude to it with the greater pleasure, because it was in a 
controversy begun by a Georgian in behalf of the constitutional 
rights of the citizen. When the late Mr. Thomas Gibbons de- 
termined to put to hazard a large part of his fortune m testing 
the constitutionality of the laws of New York, limiting the nav- 
igation of the waters of that state to steamers belonging to a 
company, his own mterest was not so much concerned as the 
right of every citizen to use a coasting license upon the waters 
of the United States, in whatever way their vessels might be 
propelled. It was a sound view of the law, but not broad 
enough for the occasion. It is not unlikely that the case would 
have been decided upon it, if you had not insisted, that it should 
be put upon the broader constitutional ground of commerce 
and navigation. The court felt the application and force of 
your reasoning ; and it made a decision releasing every creek, 
and river, lake, bay, and harbor in our country fi-om the mter- 
ference of monopolies, which had already provoked unfriendly 
legislation between some of the states, and which would have 
been as little favorable to the interest of Fulton, as they were 
unworthy of his genius." Here it will seem, indeed, that an 
act of which many even of Mr. Webster's fi-iends, it may be, 
have never heard, is taken by a learned jurist as a deed of inex- 
pressible value; and the student of Mr. Webster's extant works, 
as well as the liistorian of his life, often passes over acts, compar- 



RE-ELECTION TO THE LOWER HOUSE. 233 

atively obscure, which would have been brilliant, which would 
have constituted epochs, in the life of manj' of our first men. 

During the second session of the eighteenth congress, ]\fr. 
Webster, as chairman of the judiciary committee, reported the 
act of the 3d of March, 1825, which entirely revolutionized 
the criminal jurispnidence of the United States. The old act 
of' the 30th of April, 1T90, though as wise as could have been 
expected from an a jjrlori view of the then future wants of the 
Union, had been found by experience to be insufficient. Cases 
had been constantly coming up for which there had been made 
no provision ; and other cases, quite as numerous, had raised 
without determining the question of jurisdiction between the 
state courts and the courts provided by the national constitu- 
tion. The whole subject demanded a revision ; and tliat work 
happily fell, in great part, into the hands of Mr. Webster. 
His bill " more effectually to provide for the punishment of 
certain crimes against the United States, and for other pur- 
poses," has now been before the countiy for nearly thirty years, 
without complaint, without revision, a monument to Mr. Web- 
ster's legislative and legal wisdom. 

With this act, Mr. Webster would have closed, with the 
close of his first term from Boston, his connection with con- 
gress, had it not been for the gi-eat urgency and unparalleled 
unanimity of his constituents. Though he had expressed his 
desire of being released from office, and had taken pains to in- 
form his most intimate fi-iends at home of tliis wish, he was 
prevailed upon to stand an election for the lower house of the 
nmeteenth congress ; and the result proved, not only the wis- 
dom of his constituents, but his own unbounded popularity. 
Out of five thousand votes cast, he received four thousand nine 
hundred and ninety ; and the tea votes serve only to show 
that this remarkable unanimity was not because there was no 
candidate against him. 

It was during the interim of his first and second appearance 



234 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

as a representative from Boston, that Mr. Webster pronounced 
his first oration at Bunker Hill, on the occasion of laying the 
corner stone of the monument to be there erected. Such a 
monument had long been contemplated ; not onlj the legisla- 
ture of Massachusetts, but congress itself, had resolved, at dit 
ferent times, to commemorate the fail of Warren and the first 
great battle of the revolution, by some such testimonial ; but 
it was not till about this period, the year 1825, that the work 
was undertaken, and the great debt paid. For the perform- 
ance of the ceremony itself, of la}'ing the first stone, there 
could scarcely have been a more propitious time. Congi-ess, 
in the fulness of its gratitude, had invited General Lafayette to 
visit the country he had helped to save, and be the guest of the 
whole nation ; the general was now here, passing from one sec- 
tion to another, and everywhere receiving the warmest bene- 
dictions of the people ; and, in the work now in hand, it was 
most opportune that he, the representative of the revolutionary 
struggle, in which the great Warren fell, could be present on 
the occasion, and take in it a conspicuous part. Everything 
conspired to make the day memorable. It was the fiftieth an- 
niversary of the battle ; and nature herself seemed to conspire 
to shed on it her seleotest charms. " The morning," says Mr. 
Frothingham, m his history of the siege of Boston, " proved 
propitious. The air was cool, the sky was clear, and timely 
showers the previous day had brightened the verdure into its 
loveliest hue. Delighted thousands flocked into Boston to bear 
a part in the proceedings, or to witness the spectacle. At 
about ten oclock, a procession moved from the State House 
toward Bunker Hill. The military, in their fine uniforms, 
formed the van. About two hundred veterans of the revolu- 
tion, of whom forty were survivors of the battle, rode in ba- 
rouches, next to the escort. These venerable men, the relics 
of a past generation, with emaciated frames, tottering limbs 
and trembling voices, constituted a touching spectacle. Some 



/ 



RE-ENTERS CONGRESS. •' 2S5 

/■ 

wore, as honorable decorations, their old fighting equipments • 
and some bore the scars of still more lionorable wounds. 
Glistening eyes constituted iheir answer to the enthusiastio 
cheers of the grateful multitudes who lined their pathway and 
cheered their progress. To this patriot band, succeeded the 
Bunker Hill Monument Association. Then the masonic fra- 
ternity, in their splendid regalia, thousands in number. Then 
Lafiiyette, continually welcomed by tokens of love and grati- 
tude, and the invited guests. Then a long array of societies, 
with their various badges and banners. It was a splendid pro- 
cession, and of such length that the front nearly reached Charles- 
town Bridge, ere the rear had left Boston Common. It pro- 
ceeded to Breed's Hill, where the grand master of the Freema- 
sons, the president of the IMonument Association, and General 
Lafayette, performed the ceremony of laying the corner-stone, 
in the presence of a vast concourse of people." " The proces- 
sion then moved," sa}s Mr. Everett, " to a spacious amphithe- 
ater, on the northern declivity of the hill, where the address 
was delivered by Mr. Webster, in presence of as great a mul- 
titude as was ever, perhaps, assembled within the sound of 
a human voice." That address needs no eulogy ; nor would 
any quotations do it justice ; as it has long been read and eu- 
logized, from beginning to end, as equal to any other similar 
production not from the hand of Mr. Webster. 

On entering congress the third time, and the second time 
from Massachusetts, Mr. Webster found several important 
changes in the government, and in the state of parties. The 
'■ era of good feeling," as Mr. Monroe's administration was de- 
nominated, had passed by ; and an era of very bitter feeling 
had been instaurated in the election of John Quincy Adams. 
In summing up the votes of the people, it had been discovered 
that Mr. Adams had received a popular majority ; but the 
votes in the electoral college had stood ninety-nine for Andrew 
Jackson, eighty-four for John Q. Adams, forty-one for William 



236 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

H. Crawford, and thirty-seven for Henry Clay. There being 
no majority for either of the candidates, the election had de- 
volved on the house of representatives at its previous session ; 
and the votes cast for Mr. Clay, by the agency of Mr. Webster 
having been obtained for Mr. Adams, Mr. Adams had been 
successful. But it was one of those -^dctories which are more 
disastrous than a defeat. The friends of Jackson raised the cry 
throughout the country, that the expressed will of the people 
had been defeated ; and as the votes originally thrown for Mr. 
Clay had been finally given to Mr. Adams, it was said that 
Mr. Clay had sold himself to Mr. Adams for the chance of 
being adopted by the new president as his successor. There 
probably was never invented a greater slander. The accusa- 
tion stands only on suspicion ; and the suspicion is based on 
no evidence. It is just as supposable that the friends of Mr. 
Oay voted for Mr. Adams at their own option, when freed 
from their original obligation by the impossibility of electing 
Mr. Clay, as that they were directed to vote as they -did by 
Mr. Clay himself; and, even if so directed, it is quite as natu- 
ral that Mr. Clay, on giving up his o^■n^ chance, should make 
the preference of Mr. Adams, a political friend, against Mr. 
Jackson and Mr. Crawford, who were not his political friends, 
without as with a bargain. Any other course would have been 
a very great inconsistency. The slander, nevertheless, gained 
ground by the mere force of repetition ; it was reiterated to the 
day of Mr. Clay's death ; and he carried to his grave, no doubt, 
the heavy grief of having been stigmatized with a crime of which 
he was wholly innocent. He carried with him, too, a knowl- 
edge of the fact, that it was this malicious charge, which had 
not only given the victory to one of his competitors at the next 
succeeding election, but had blasted his own prospects for the 
same honor through a long life, devoted, with no less zeal, to 
the best good and highest glory of his country. 



CLAY AND ADAMS. 237 

It would certainly not be in place to defend, at any length, 
the reputation of ]\Ir. Clay in a memoir of Mr. Webster ; but 
the case above stated calls up reflections which must have been 
experienced by nearly every intelligent American. There is 
too much personality allowed to enter into our party sti-ifes. 
There was too much, on both sides, m the presidential elections 
succeeding the first election of Mr. Adams ; and it grew out 
of what every careful and candid reader must know was a case 
of mere suspicion without proof Mr. Adams gets the popular 
but not the constitutional vote. Mr. Clay had been, and then 
was, a political fi-iend of j\Ir. Adams, and so the friends of Mr. 
Clay, seeing no chance of electing their own candidate, cast 
then- votes for Mr. Adams. Upon this, without a show of 
farther testimony, forgetting charity and even common propri. 
ety, a whole party accuses jSIr. Clay of an act, which no respect- 
able man, of even ordinary standing, or ordinary intelligence, 
or decent self-respect, could perform. As an offset, in the next 
election, INIr. Jackson is charged with the foulest of crimes, 
^vith msubordination to his superiors, with peculation in office, 
and m fact with cold-blooded murder. As a rejoinder, an ap- 
peal is made against Mr. Clay for having sold hidisclf, his con- 
stituents, his former principles, his country, when the country 
well knows, if it knows anything of the Kentucky character, or 
of the character of the most illustrious son of Kentucky, that 
he would have despised the very suggestion of such a bargain, 
and scorned the man, high or low, who should have proposed 
it to him. Still the charge proceeds. It has its effect upon the 
people. Adams gets his place temporarily ; but Jackson, 
backed by an " outraged people," puts him out at the first op- 
portunity. So the work goes on, making the life of a states- 
man the life of a politician, and the life of a politician so sus- 
pected, as to revive and almost justify the satire of the EnglLsh 
eulogist of Indolence : 



238 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

" The puzzling sons of party next appeared, 
In dark cabals and nightly juntoes met; 
And now they whispered close, now shrugging reared 
The important shoulder; then, as if to get 
New li^'ht, their twinkling eyes were in wonder set. 
No sooner Lucifer recalls affairs, 
Than forth they rush in mighty fret; 
"When, lo ! puslied up to power, and crowned their cares. 
In comes another set, and kicketh them down stiirs." 

Tliis satire, however, upon the whole, is not sustained by the 
political history of this country in its higher departments. 
Generally, and more in later years than formerly, candidates 
for the first offices, though compelled to walk through a suf- 
ficiently fiery ordeal, are treated with decent consideration. 
From the bitter days now alluded to, there has been a change 
for the better constantly growing in the public mind ; and to 
no one individual is the country more indebted, for this more 
wholesome state of things, than to Mr, Webster. His uniform 
courtesy as a debater, his respectful consideration of an oppo- 
nent even when assailed, the cool and dispassionate manner in 
which he always treated the most reckless controversies, to- 
gether with occasional reproofs of the opposite practice, have 
done as much, perhaps, as anything else to correct the heat of 
party strife, and show to every American, that nothing is lost 
by treating an opponent with respect, or even with considera- 
tion. In writing out a deliberate statement of his principles in 
1840, he exposed the evil of this excessive partisan spirit ; 
and, fi'om the beginning to the end of his life, he acted in obe 
dience to the import of his own language. " We believe, too," 
he says, "that party spirit, however natural or unavoidable it 
may be in free republics, yet, when it gains such an ascendency 
in men's minds as leads them to substitute party for country, 
to seek no ends but party ends, no approbation but party ap- 
probation, and to fear no reproach or contumely so that there 
be no party dissatisfaction, not only allays the true enjoyment 



RKMODELS THK JUDICIAL SYSTEM. 239 

of such institutions, but weakens, every day, the foundations on 
which they stand." 

On the 4th of January, 1826, Mr. Webster, again chairman 
of the judiciary committee, reported a bill proposing to reor- 
ganize the supreme court of the United States, which, in its ex- 
isting condition, was not adequate to the duties laid upon it by 
the constitution. By the original act of September, 1789, the 
court had been made to consist of six judges ; and it had been 
authorized to hold two sessions a year at Washington. The 
United States, by the same act, had been divided into districts, 
and the districts had been apportioned out into three cu'cuits, 
the eastern, the middle, and the southern ; and twice in each 
year there was to be a circuit court held in each district, to be 
composed of two of the judges of the supreme court, and the 
district judge for the district. The judges of the supreme court, 
therefore, had to hold two courts a year at the seat of govern- 
ment, and then travel, two by two, to all the districts of the 
Union twice a year. This burden no man could bear. The 
judges themselves, in November, 1792, had addressed the 
president on the subject. Their communication was laid before 
congress ; and congress, to relieve the judges, passed an act 
making the circuit court to consist of one judge of- the supreme 
court associated with the district judge. By a subsequent act, 
passed in February, 1801, the judges of the supreme court, to 
be reduced from six to five, had been relieved from all connec- 
tion with the circuit courts ; and their circuit duties had been 
conferred on circuit judges appointed for the purpose. This act, 
which lasted but a single year, was superseded by the acts of 
the 8th of March and the 29th of April, 1802, the first of 
which repealed ali its predecessoi's, and the second, abolishing 
the itinerant character of the circuit courts, assigned particular 
judges of the supreme court to particular circuits. These acts 
had been regarded as great improvements in the judicial sys- 
tem, as they assigned to each judge no more labor than he could 



240 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

reasonably be expected to perform, and gave to each coiu't the 
privilege of going through with every case brought before it, 
however long it might continue on its docket, without a change 
of the individuals constituting the tribunal, hi 1807, however, 
it became necessary, un accnnnt of the rapid extension of the 
population westward, to make a new circuit for the western 
states, to which a new judge was appointed. This was the con- 
dition of the supreme court of the United States, and these 
were the duties of its judges, both at Washington and in the 
circuit courts, when the new system was brought forward by 
Mr. AVebster. 

The proposition of Mr. Webster was, that the supreme court 
of the United States should consist of a chief justice and of 
nine associate justices ; that, as soon as it should become ne- 
cessary, three additional associate justices should be appointed; 
that so much of the previous acts as vested in the district 
courts, in certain of the western states, the powers and prerog- 
atives of circuit courts, should be repealed ; and that there 
should henceforth be regular circuit courts in su^^h districts, 
consisting, as the others, of a judge of the supreme court of the 
United States and the district judge of the district in which the 
circuit court should be held. 

Li defense of this proposition Mr. Webster spoke twice, in 
both of which speeches he employed a style peculiarly adapted 
to the subject. Some of those who opposed his bill were pas- 
sionate, vociferous, and declamatory. He, on the contrary, 
was more cool, more deliberate, than was his custom. The 
topic he regarded as too grave for displays of rhetoric or of elo- 
cution. " This, sir, must be allowed, and is on all hands al 
lowed," said he in re})ly to certain intemperate debaters, " to 
be a measure of great and general interest. It respects that 
important branch of government, the judiciary ; and something 
of a judicial tone of discussion is not unsuitable to the occasion. 
We cannot treat the subject too calmly, or too dispassionately. 



MISSION TO PANAMA. 241 

For myself, I feel that I have no pride of opuiion to gratify, no 
eagerness of debate to be indulged, no competition to be pur- 
sued. I hope I may say, without impropriety, that I am not 
insensible to the responsibility of my own situation as a mem- 
ber of the house, and a member of the committee. I am 
aware of no prejudice which should draw my mind from the 
single and solicitous contemplation of what may be best ; and I 
have listened attentively, through the whole course of this de- 
bate, not with the feelings of one who is meditating the means 
of replying to objections, or escaping from their force, but with 
an imaffected anxiety to give every argument its just weight, 
and with a perfect readiness to abandon this measure, at any 
moment, in favor of any other, which should appear to have 
solid grounds of preference." Such candor, added to such 
ability, had its effect. The tone of debate was at once softened 
down ; the most perfect coui-tesy thereafter characterized the 
debate ; and, though all the amendments of the judicial system, 
proposed by Mr. Webster, were not adopted at that time, the 
main feature of it has been adopted, and is in practical opera- 
tion at the present day. 

The party opposed to the administration of Mr. Adams, 
composed of a very heterogeneous combination of materials, 
went into the nineteenth congress breatliiiig vengeance upon 
the man who had bargained, as in common traffic, for his ex- 
alted place. The president, however, was not only a learned, 
a wise, but a very 2>rudent man ; and it was not easy to find, 
in anything he had said or done, or was likely to say or do, a 
point giving a reasonable opportunity of attack. After dili- 
gent search, and by no little conspiracy of the leaders of the 
opposition, they agreed to fasten upon a single passage of his 
message, in which he had spoken of having determined to send 
commissioners to the celebrated congress of Panama. What 
was the oliject of that congress ? Was it not a meeting of del- 
egates from Mexico and the Spanish South American states, who 



242 WEBBTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

proposed a general confederacy for their own protection against 
a combination of European sovereigns ? What right, it was 
asked, had the president to send ministers to such a congress ? 
What powers were they to have, and what duties were they 
to perform, as members of that body ? Were they to go 
there to concoct a general alliance with the Spanish-American 
states of central and southern America, by .which the United 
States should be bound to defend those states in their revolu- 
tionary measures, and to go to war with Spain and other for- 
eign governments in a cause not at all our own ] Were we 
now to forget the true policy of our country, as laid down by 
the fathers of the great republic, and get into "tangling alli- 
ances" with other nations, and thus draw ourselves into all the 
miseries of the new and the wiles of the old world ? No, 
never, was the general and patriotic response, when every man, 
on whose lips this reply was found, knew perfectly well, that 
Mr. Adams had entertained no such designs. They knew very 
•well, that, as the states mentioned had recently declared and 
maintauaed their independence, new relations had arisen be- 
tween them and the United States, calling for a thorough dis- 
cussion, and a good degree of care on our part, lest those states 
should themselves, unobserved or unresisted by us, form such 
an alliance among themselves as would be injurious to our 
commerce, and perhaps endanger our peace. They knew as 
well as did the president, that there were then rumors afloat 
in regard to the independence of Cuba ; that Cuba had been 
invited to join the general alliance of the central and southern 
states of America ; and that, if there were no other grounds, 
this fact was a sufficient reason for sendins: commissioners or 
agents to the congress of Panama, who should be empowered 
to discuss every question therein arising, to resist what would 
be hurtful tu the interests of their country, and to acquiesce in 
whatever might promise, on the maturest deliberation, to do 
us good. Having been invited to send such commissioners, 



SPEECH ON THE MISSION. 243 

by the Spanish-American states themselves, it was certainly a 
wise proposition, and perfectly constitutional, to have the coun- 
try represented in that assembly ; and the president, with the 
consent of the senate, had made appointments in accordance 
with this view of his right, responsibility and duty, hi his an- 
nual message he had requested the house, not to give him ad- 
vice respecting the propriety of his measure, or to share that 
responsibility with him, but simply to make the necessary ap- 
propriations to defi-ay the expenses of the commission. This 
request brought the subject to the notice, and put the destiny 
of it at the mercy, of the house ; and the opposition members, 
not scrupling to undertake the most novel and extraordinary 
course, proposed either to witlihold the appropriation altogether, 
or so to limit by insti'uctions the powers of the commission 
as to render it totally inefficient, and thus make it a laughing- 
stock to our own people and to other nations. While the 
question was in this condition, embarrassed on all sides, and 
particularly embarrassed by a discussion which had become 
exceedingly intemperate and abusive, Mr, Webster rose in the 
house, in his easy and conciliatory manner, and delivered what 
was universally acknowledged at the time, and what has ever 
smce been acknowledged, as the most eloquent, powerful, and 
effective effort of the nineteenth congi-ess : " The president and 
senate," said the orator, "have instituted a public mission, for 
the purpose of treating with foreign states. The constitution 
gives to the president the power of appointing, with the con 
sent of the senate, ambassadors and other public ministers 
Such appointment is, therefore, a clear and unquestionable ex 
ercise of executive power. It is, indeed, less connected with 
the appropriate duties of the house, than almost any other ex 
ecutive act, because tlie ofTice of a public minister is not crea 
ted by any statute or law of our own government. It exists 
under the law of nations, and is recognized as existing by our 
constitution. The acts of congress, indeed, limit the salaries 
VOL. I, K 16 



244 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of public ministers; but they do no more. Everything else in 
regard to the appointment of public ministers — their numbers, 
the time of their appointment, and the negotiations contempla- 
ted in such appointments — is matter for executive discretion. 
Every new appointment to supply vacancies in existing mis- 
sions is under the same authority. There are, indeed, what 
we commonly term standing missions, so known in the prac- 
tice of the government, but they are not permanent by any 
law. All missions rest on the same ground. Now the ques- 
tion is, whether, the president and senate having created this 
mission, or, in other words, having appointed the ministers, in. 
the exercise of their undoubted constitutional power, this house 
will take upon itself the responsibility of defeating its objects, 
and rendering this exercise of executive power void." Mr. Web- 
ster then went into a particular examination of the arguments 
advanced by the opposition, in which he showed the utter fu- 
tility of all their reasoning, followed them through all their wind- 
ings, and drove them from their ground by arguments which 
they never knew how to ansv/er. He clearly proved, that, as 
the president had the right of making the appointments, the 
house must either grant or refuse, without instructions, the 
needed appropriations ; and that, though the subject was too 
delicate for open and unrestricted debate, there were doubtless 
such objects of an important character, and of great interest to 
the country, to be secured, or at least watched, in the contem- 
plated congress, as to justify the appointments which had been 
made by the president and senate. 

Besides this constitutional and general argument, Mr. Web- 
ster presented a most conclusive reason for the mission, drawn 
from the celebrated declaration of President Monroe. It had 
come to the knowledge of that gentleman, about the time when 
the independence of the South American and Mexican states 
had been acknowledged by this country, that there was a plan 
on foot in Europe for a sort of Holy Alliance in reference to 



ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. 245 

American affairs ; and the first undertaking of this combina- 
tion was to be the re-subjugation of the Spanish provinces of 
America, that no similar attempts might be made, without 
fear of the general wrath of the great kings of Europe, in any- 
other quarter of the globe. The fact of this royal conspiracy- 
had been presented by Mr. Monroe to his cabinet, which con- 
sisted of 'Adams, CVawfurd, Calhoun, Southard, and Wirt ; and 
they, as it seems, had not only advised the declaration of jSIon- 
roe, which forbids all foreign governments from interfering with 
the domestic arrangements of this continent, but had resolved 
to defend the continent against all such interference at every 
hazard. That president, therefore, by the consent and coop 
eration, not of Adams only, but of Crawford and Calhoun, now 
the opponents of Adams on this very ground, had resolved to 
take the continent under the special protection of this govern- 
ment ; but Mr. Adams, when his turn came as president, not 
to defend other nations, but to look afler the interests of our 
own, proposed simply to send commissioners to discuss ques 
tions of great interest to the United States, and to form treaties 
of trade and business with the new states, when, lo ! his former 
associates, who had been deeper in the Monroe doctrine than 
he was now himself, followed by the whole opposition party, 
raised the clamor of " Quixotism," of "tangling alliances," of 
" going abroad for trouble," in a style more bitter and personal 
than had ever before been witnessed in this country ! 

The speech on the mission to Panama was made on the 
14th of April, 1826 ; and in the November following, in the 
interim of the two sessions of the nineteenth concress, Mr. 
Webster was elected to the twentieth congress with scarcely a 
eIiow of opposition. Having, at the close of the first session 
of the eighteenth or current congress, retired to the practice 
of his profession, which he still cherished above all the honors 
of public life, he was called to serve on an occasion, which, as 
it can scaraily be supposed ever to occur again, would be as 



346 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

little likely ever to find a man so entirely equal to its demands. 
On the 4th of July, 1826, John Adams, the second president 
of the Union, the early friend of American independence, 
the glorious patriot beloved and admired by millions of his 
grateful countrymen, died in peace at Quincy. It was regarded 
as a most remarkable comcidence, that he, who might be con- 
sidered, without disparagement to others, as the ablest sup- 
porter of the declaration of independence, should be permitted 
to hallow the day by his death. It was still more remarkable, 
that that very day was the fiftieth anniversary, the jubilee day, 
of the ever-memorable event. As he was gradually dying, but 
still conscious of everything about him, the departing patriot 
seemed to be perfectly aware of the day ; and his thoughts 
turned at once to the illustrious deed, which, just half a century 
before, had given birth to a nation now rejoicing all around him 
with a general and almost tumultuous joy. He thought, too, 
of his noble compatriots of that early day, and mentioned sev 
eral of them with an affection that moved the spectators of his 
death to tears ; but, giving to Washington and Franklin their 
highest praise, he seemed to dwell on the name of Jefferson 
wdth a peculiar interest." And there was certainly good reason 
why the departing sage should evince extraordinai'y emotion 
over the, memory of that extraordinary man. Tliough oppo- 
site in respect of party, they had been associated, in a singular 
manner, in the greatest and most illustrious acts which they 
had individually performed. They were associated in the 
recollections of their countrymen, also, not only by these re- 
semblances in their lives, but by the deep contrasts that sepa- 
rated thena in other things. They had been the leading repre- 
sentatives of the two leading colonies in the congress of the 
revolution. They had been the champions of the two great 
parties into which the country was even fi'om the first 
more or less divided. They had both been members of the 
committee to draft the declaration of independence. They had 



DEATH OF THE TWO PATRIOTS. 247 

been the two leading members of this committee, Mr. Jeffer- 
son havhig the preference over Mr. Adams by a single vote. 
They had constituted the famous sub-committee, to which the 
general committee, consisting of Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, 
Sherman, and Livingston, had confided the high duty of making 
the first draft of the declaration. They had both occupied the 
office of secretary of state, and both the higher office of presi- 
dent of the United States ; and when Mr. Jefferson obtained 
the office, he had obtained it by a majority of only one vote over 
his competitor, INIr. Adams. Neither of them had been a 
member of the convention which formed the constitution, nei- 
ther had ever been a member of congress after its adoption, 
though both had represented the country, as public ministers, 
at foreign courts. They had both been members of the same 
profession, though neither of them had ever depended upon 
their practice either for their livelihood, or for those distinctions 
which had croAvned both alike. Thi'ough their whole lives, 
though opposite in very important particulars, they had been 
united in many others ; and it had grown to be a habit of speech, 
throughout the country, and throughout the civilized world, 
as it is at this day, to associate and mention the two names to- 
gether. Par nobile fratrum ! The one, now dying in his 
home at Quincy, with his last breath spoke of his illustrious 
brother, who, he supposed, though aged and broken in health, 
was to survive him ; but, what has ever seemed the strangest 
of all these wonderful coincidences, on that very day, the day 
of the declaration, the day of the nation's anniversary, the day 
of jubilee of that anniversary, the day which resigned John 
Adams to the hands of God and the immortality that awaited 
him, Thomas Jefferson breathed his last in his own peaceful 
retreat at !Monticello! In spite of their opposite views in pol- 
itics, in spite of their frequent opposition as candidates for of- 
fice, they had always cherished for each other the warmest 
friendship and affection ; and now, " lovely and pleasant in 



248 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

their lives, in their death they were not divided ; " and the 
whole nation, astonished at the apparently miraculous manner 
of their departure, and in tears over the loss suffered by their 
surviving countrymen, adopted, with one voice, the king of Is- 
rael's lamentation : " How are the mighty fallen, and the weap- 
ons of war perished ! " There was Weeping that day mingled 
with rejoicing. For days and weeks afterwards, the wonderful 
event was the only topic of conversation. Every one seemed 
to see the hand of God in every one of these singular coinci- 
dences. The pulpits made free use of the grand event in en- 
forcing the doctrine of a special providence. Patriots spoke 
of it as a lesson to the country in respect to union. All classes 
had something to say of it, some lesson or moral to draw from, 
it, peculiar to themselves respectively and appropriate to the 
condition of the nation. Public addresses, as well as sermons, 
were delivered in every section of the United States ; and, 
among other places, as was most fit, a day was appointed to 
commemoi'ate the event in the metropolis of Massachusetts. 
In the choice of a speaker, it is said, there was not a dissenting 
vote. All eyes turned to Mr. Webster. Mr. Webster was 
the only man, it was unanimously agreed, that could adequately 
speak for a whole commonwealth, and . entirely meet the re- 
quisitions that the occasion w'ould lay upon him. It was truly 
so ; and the event justified the judgment. On the 2d day of 
August, 1826, which, as it also happened, turned out to be the an- 
niversary of the day when the declaration of independence had 
been engrossed by the revolutionary congress, Mr. Webster 
delivered that address on the death of Adams and Jefferson, 
which, in its peculiar strain, as a funeral oration, was never 
surpassed by any orator of Grecian or Roman fame. It would 
be idle to quote from it, in proof of this opinion, as it has been 
committed to memory, almost entire, by two generations of 
American youth, and been read and admired by every civil- 
ized people of the globe. 



\ 



TRANSFERRED TO THE SENATE. 249 

During the session of the congressional year 1826-1827, 
tliere was no subject before the house, on which Mr, Webster 
felt himself called upon to make an elaborate speech, after he 
had given his opinion of the mission to Panama ; and in the 
month of June of the year 1827, he was transferred to the 
senate of the United States by a very large majority of the 
votes of the legislature of Massachusetts. Taking his scat, 
therefore, as a senator of the twentieth congi'ess, for the state 
of Massachusetts, with all his honors as an orator and states- 
man upon him, and with the respect and even deference of a 
whole senate around liim, he could not fliil to take a high rank 
in congress and before the country ; and his talents, now uni- 
versally conceded to be of the first order, and his fame, which 
covered the whole country, and passed over into foreign coun- 
tries, marked and stamped every word uttered by him w^tli 
importance. What he would first do, on entering the senate, 
became a query in the country ; it was a query which M'as cir- 
culated not a little in the newspapers of that day ; but Mr. 
Webster never seemed to read, certainly not to regard, what 
was said about him, or predicted of him, in the public prints. 
His own line of duty was always clear before him ; and he al- 
ways followed that line, turning neither to the right nor left to 
satisfy any one's taste or fulfill any one's predictions. 

His first speech before the senate, of sufficient importance to 
receive the honors of a publication, was on the bill introduced 
for the relief of the surviving officers of the revolution. On 
this bill ]\Ir. Webster made a short address, which, though to 
be numbered among his minor speeches, is yet a model of its 
kind, the occasion being taken into consideration. A passage 
may be quoted fi-om it to show the singular felicity with which 
he could openly discuss, in a most deliciite manner, such ques- 
tions as could hardly be mentioned by a less skillful tongue 
without exciting the prejudices or wounding the feelings of sen- 
sitive individuals : " It must be admitted, sir," says the sena- 



250 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

tor, " that the persons for whose benefit this bill is designed 
are, in some respects, peculiarly unfortunate. They are com- 
pelled to meet not only objections to the principle, but, which- 
ever way they turn themselves, embarrassing objections also 
to details. One fi"iend hesitates at this provision, and another 
at that ; while those who are not friends at all of course oppose 
everything, and propose nothing. When it was contemplated, 
heretofore, to give the petitioners a sum outright in satisfaction 
of their claim, then the argument was, among other things, that 
the treasury could not bear so heavy a draft on its means at 
the present moment. The plan is accordingly changed ; an 
annuity is proposed ; and then the objection changes also. It 
is now said, that this is but granting pensions, and that the 
pension system had already been carried too far. I confess, sir, 
I felt wounded, deeply hurt, at the observations of the gentle- 
man from Georgia. 'So, then,' said he, 'these modest and 
high-minded gentlernen take a pension at last!' How is it 
possible that a gentleman of his generosity of character, and 
general kindness of feeling, can indulge in such a tone of tri- 
umphant irony towards a few old, gray-headed, poor, and bro- 
ken warriors of the revolution ! There is, I know, something 
repulsive and opprobrious in the name of pension. But God 
forbid that I should taunt them with it ! With gi'ief, heart-felt 
grief, do I behold the necessity which leads these veterans to 
accept the bounty of their country, in a manner not the most 
agreeable to their feelings. Worn out and decrepit, repre- 
sented before us by those, their former brothers in arms, who 
totter along our lobbies, or stand leaning on their crutches, I, 
for one, would most gladly support such a measure as should 
consult at once their services, their years, their necessities, 
and the delicacy of their sentiments. I would gladly give, 
with prompitude and grace, with gratitude and delicacy, that 
which merit has earned and necessity demands." Treating of 
the objections urged against the bill, the senator proceeds : "It 



FIRST SPEECH IN THE SENATE. 251 

is objected that the militia have a claim upon us ; that they 
fought at the side of the regular soldiers, and ought to share in 
the country's remembrance. But it is known to be impossible 
to carry the measure to such an extent as to embrace the mili- 
tia ; and it is plain, too, that the cases are different. The bill, 
as I have already said, confines itself to those who served not 
occasionally, not temporarily, but permanently ; who allowed 
themselves to be counted on as men who were to see the con- 
test through, last as long as it might ; and who have made the 
phrase, 'listing during the war,' a proverbial expression, signi- 
fying unalterable devotion to our cause, through good fortune 
and ill fortune, till it reached its close. This is a plain distinc- 
tion ; and although, perhaps, I might wish to do more, I see 
good ground to stop here for the present, if we must stop any- 
where. The militia who fought at Concord, at Lexington, and 
at Bunker Hill, have been alluded to, in the course of this de- 
bate, in terms of well-deserved praise. Be assured, sir, there 
could witli difficulty be found a man, who drew his sword, or 
carried his musket, at Concord, at Lexington, or at Bunker 
Hill, who would wish you to reject this bill. They might ask 
you to do more, but never to refi'ain from doing this. Would 
to God they were assembled here, and had the fate of the bill 
in their own hands ! Would to God the question of its passage 
were to be put to them ! They would affirm it with a unity 
of acclamation that would rend the roof of the capitol !" 

Such was ]\Ir. Webster's happy tact of handling delicate sub- 
jects, of answering objections that required discriminate lan- 
guage, and of turning the morale, the popular sentiment, of an 
objection against those who raised it. In the same speech he 
shows his ardent love for New England, and gives another ex- 
ample of his felicity in turning the argument of an adversary to 
his own purposes and advantage, making it decorous for him- 
self to pay a useful compliment where, otherwise, all compli- 
ment would have been uncalled for and suspected. "I would 
VOL. I, K* 



252 WEBSTEK AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

not," he says, " and do not, underrate the services and the suf- 
ferings of others. I know well, that, in the revolutionary con- 
test, all made sacrifices, and all endured sufterings, as well 
those who paid for service, as those who performed it. I 
know that, in the records of all tlie little municipalities of New 
England, abundant proof exists of the zeal with which the cause 
was espoused, and the sacrifices with which it was cheerfully 
maintained. I have often there read, with absolute astonish- 
ment, of the taxes, the contributions, the heavy subsci^iptions, 
sometimes provided for by disposing of the absolute necessaries 
of life, by which enlistments Avere procured, and food and 
clothing furnished. It would be, sir, to these same municipali- 
ties, to these same little patriotic councils of revolutionary 
times, that I would now look, with most assured confidence, 
for a hearty support of what this bill proposes. There, the 
scale of revolutionary merit stands high. There are still those 
living, who speak of the 19th of April, and the 17th of June, 
without thinking it necessaiy to add the year. Tliese men, 
one and all, would rejoice to find that tlwse who stood by the 
country bravely, through the doubtflil and perilous struggle, 
which conducted to independence and glory, had not been for- 
gotten in the decline and close of life!" The whole. speech, 
indeed, though not on an emergency which called for the great- 
est effort, is a fine proof of Mr. Webster's calmness, candor, and 
unexampled tact and ingenuity in debate. He always seemed 
to know and feel exactly what the subject demanded of him ; 
and he also knew how, in a most natural and dignified man- 
ner, after answering such argunients as needed only to be an- 
swered, to turn the others into an occasion to say just such 
things as he wanted to say, but could not have said with 
dignity, had not his unskillful opponents furnished him with the 
opportunity. His whole career, as a lawyer, as a representa- 
tive, as a senator, is full of these examples; but the great ex- 



ELECTIOK OP GENERAL JACESON. 253 

ample of his Jife comes next up, iu clironological order, for the 
consideration and admiration of the reader. 

The mterval between the two sessions- of the twentieth con- 
gress is memorable for the election of Andrew Jackson over 
his competitor, Jolin Quincy Adams. The party, made up of 
the discordant elements before mentioned, which had united to 
break do-\Mi the administration of Mr. Adams, had succeeded 
in its purpose. Tlie slander on Mr. Adams, in relation to his 
bargain with ]Mr. Clay, had been so industriously repeated, that 
the majority of the people of the country had come to put implicit 
confidence in its truth; and even at this day, there are thousands 
of well-meaning men in the United States, men of the greatest 
worth and integrity, who could scarcely be more insulted, or at 
least affronted, than by the suggestion of a doubt on this subject. 
To all practical intents, therefore, the slander was just as eflect- 
ual as if it had been historically and undeniably a fact ; and, as 
it spread among the people, Jackson's popularity rose, and that 
of the president went down. Jackson was made president by 
a majority unkno^vn since the dcys of j\Ionroe. Webster, who 
was the cause of the vote of Clay's friends being given to Mr. 
Adams, and Clay, who had probably only acquiesced in the 
course of Mr. Webster, had both labored to sustain the admin- 
istration of their common friend ; but no support, however 
able, or from men however distmguishcd, could sustain a man, 
who had been doomed before he had done either good or 
evil. 

Tlie pai'ty of the new administration, therefore, was merely 
an opposition ; and an opposition is very likely to be made of 
dissimilar and discordant materials. This is more liable to be 
the case when the opposition is based on personal and malicious 
grounds. There is then not likely to be much principle at 
stake. It is mere hatred, resentment, or revenge. Wliatever 
w^as the animus of the opposition party now in power, it is very 
certain that the party itself was not at all united. Jacksou 



254 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

and Crawford had not been friends. Crawford and Calhoun 
had not been friends ; and Calhoun, though now vice-president 
under Jackson, had avowed opinions, and was then secretly- 
fostering a spirit, which was not only leading directly to a sev- 
erance of the Union, but which was exceedingly distasteful to 
the president. 

It will be remembered that the tariff of 1816 was a measure 
of the southern and western states, which forced it upon New 
England in spite of a determined and protracted opposition, in 
which Mr. Webster had taken a prominent part. The tariff 
of 1824, also, had been opposed by the New England states, 
but was carried at last by southern and western votes. The 
tariff of 1828 had been accepted by Mr. Webster, but it had 
been so accepted, not because a high protection had been the 
original policy of New England, but because it had been made 
the policy of the government. The high tariff system, in fact, 
from first to last, had been a western and southern affair, and 
had been incorporated as an element of the general policy of 
the country by southern and western votes. Li 1828, how- 
ever. New England had acquiesced in this southern and western 
measure, while the south and west themselves had grown a little 
cool or indifferent towards it. They had initiated and carried 
it, and had thus caused an untold amount of investments to be 
made in various manutlicturing establishments, chiefly located 
in New England ; and now' they began to turn round upon 
their own act, not only dishonoring and rejecting it, but accu- 
sing it of being unfriendly, even hostile, to the interests of the 
west and south. There was probably some disappointment, 
and some jealousy, mixed up with this change of opinion and 
practice. When originated, New England was engaged al- 
most exclusively in navigation ; and the tariff, it was supposed, 
by throwing restrictions on free trade, would benefit the agri- 
culture of the west and south, though it might also diminish 
the business of the east. The result of the measure had not 



THE TARIFF AND NEW ENGLAND. 255 

entirely met the expectation of its originators. New England, 
having more ready capital than could be employed to the best 
advantage in a commerce thus restrained, had diverted the sur- 
plus of this capital to those manufactures, which had been par- 
ticularly marked out for protection by these southern and west- 
ern tariffs. Make the laws as they would, fix whatever boun- 
daries to business that any sections of the Union might devise. 
New England had known how to thrive. She could not 
thrive, however, any more than any other section, if the laws 
were not kept more or less uniform and firm, if they were to 
be changed with every congress, or every new notion that 
might possibly get the ascendency for a day. Having, there- 
fore, been forced into the business of manufactures, and having 
involved a large amount of property in it, New England was 
now willing to relinquish her opposition to the doctrine of pro- 
tection, and to stand up in support of the darling measure of 
the south and west. She expected, no doubt, that the south 
and west would congratulate her upon her conversion, and pro- 
nounce themselves fortunate in having made so good a con- 
vert. Not so. The south and west had now changed sides. 
They opened up a determined opposition to their own measure. 
They used, in that opposition, the very arguments which they 
had tried to answer when given to them from the lips of Mr. 
Webster. This change of sentiment had commenced as early 
as 1828, when the tariff bill of that year, which was rather fa- 
vorable to New England, was under discussion in the senate. 
It was a change so sudden and so marked that Mr. Webster 
had not seen fit to let it pass without observation : " New 
England, sir," said he, in his speech of the 9th of May, 1828, 
" has not been a leader in this policy. On the contrary, she 
held back herself and tried to hold others back from it, from 
the adoption of the coui-titution to 1824. Up to 1824, she was 
accused of sinister and selfish designs, because she discounte- 
nanced the progress of this policy. It was laid to her charge 



256 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

then, that, having established her manufactures herself, she 
wished that others should not have the power of rivaling her, 
and for that reason opposed all legislative encouragement. 
Under this angry denunciation agamst her, the act of 1824 
passed. Now, the imputation is precisely of an opposite char- 
acter. The present measui'e is pronounced to be exclusively 
for the benefit of New England ; to be brought forward by her 
agency, and designed to gratify the cupidity of the proprietors 
of her wealthy establishments. Both charges, sir, are equally 
without the slightest foundation. The opinion of New England 
up to 1824 was founded in the conviction that, on the whole, it 
was wisest and best, both for herself and others, that manufac- 
tures should make haste slowly. She felt a reluctance to trust 
great interests on the foundation of government patronage ; for 
who could tell how long such patronage would last, or with 
what steadiness, skill, or perseverance it would continue to bs 
granted 1 It is now nearly fifteen years since, among the first 
thino-s which I ever ventured to say here, I expressed a serious 
doubt whether this government was fitted, by its construction, 
to administer aid and protection to particular pursuits; whether, 
having called such pursuits into being by indications of its favor, 
it would not afterwards desert them, should troubles come upon 
them, and leave them to their fate. Whether this prediction, 
the result, certainly, of chance, and not of sagacity, is about to 
be fulfilled, remains to be seen." 

hi the same speech Mr, Webster states the grounds on which 
New England had been compelled to change her policy ; and, 
as it is as clear a defense of his own course as can be given, or 
need to be given, a further extract is appropriate to the narra- 
tive of his life : " At the same time it is true," says he, m 
continuation of his remarks, " that, from the very first com- 
mencement of the government, those who have administered 
its concerns have held a tone of encouragement and invitation 
towards those who should embark in manufactures. All tJie 



PROTECTIVE POLICY. 257 

presidents, I believe without exception, have concuiTed in this 
general sentiment ; and the very first act of congress laying 
duties on imports adopted the unusual expedient of a preamble, 
apparently for little other purpose than that of declaring that 
the duties wliich it imposed were laid for the encouragement 
and protection of manufactiu-es. When, at the commencement 
of the late war, duties were doubled, we were told that we 
should find a mitigation of the weight of taxation in the new 
aid and succor which would be thus afforded to our own man 
ufacturing labor. Like arguments were urged, and prevailed, 
but not by the aid of New England votes, when the tariff was 
afterwards arranged, at the close of the war in 1816. Finally, 
after a whole winter's deliberation, the act of 1824 received the 
sanction of both houses of congress, and settled the policy of - 
the country. What, then, was New England to do 1 She 
was fitted for manufacturing operations, by the amount and 
character of her population, by her capital, by the vigor and 
energy of her fi:-ee labor, by the skill, economy, entcj-prise, and 
pei-severance of her people. I repeat, what was she, under 
those circumstances, to do ? A great and prosperous rival in 
her near neighborhood, threatening to draw from her a part, 
perhaps a gi*eat part, of her foreign commerce ; was she to use, 
or to neglect, those other means of seeking her own prosperity 
which belonged to her character and condition ? Was she to 
hold out forever against the course of the government, and see 
herself losing on one side, and yet make no effort to sustain 
herself on the other 1 No, sir. Nothing was left to New En- 
gland, after the act of 1824, but to conform herself to the will 
of others. Nothing was left to her, but to consider that the 
government had fixed and determined her own policy ; and 
that policy was protection." 

This protection, however, had become, as has been seen, and 
for the reason that has been assigned, distasteful to the south 
and west, but particularly to the south. The south could not 



258 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

get quite enough of the votes of the west, and of the middle 
states, to carry out her unparental zeal in the destruction of her 
own offspring. Protection had been settled as the policy of 
the government ; and the tariff" of 1828 had passed, not only 
without the help of the south, but in spite of it. Upon this, the 
greater part of the southern states, and all the western, had 
honorably submitted to a vote of congress, and to the laws 
established according to the forms and requisitions of the con- 
stitution. South Carolina, however, had chosen to constitute 
an exception to this general fact. South Carolina, led by Mr. 
Calhoun, the vice-president under General Jackson, finding it 
impossible to break down the tariff by the only mode of legis- 
lating recognized or provided for in the constitution, had taken 
it upon herself to seek out another mode, which the constitu- 
tion virtually, constructively, and actuall}^ ever3'where forbids. 
She had set up the doctrine of state-rights. She had declared, 
that, whenever laws should be passed distasteful to a state, that 
state had the right, in spite of congress, m spite of its laws, in 
spite of everything, to declare such legislation null and void 
within her own territorial limits. Not only had this strange, 
this novel, this dangerous doctrine been put forth in theory, in 
speculation, in the heat and excitement of debate, but there was 
then a small but vigorous party in the senate, and in the house, 
which acknowledged the vice-president himself as its chief, with 
such gentlemen as McDuffieand Hayneas parliamentary lead- 
ers, which threatened, provided the tariff policy was not re- 
pealed, to put the theory into immediate practice, cost what it 
might. 

Such was the position of aflairs when Andrew Jackson took 
his place as president of the United States. Such was the posi- 
tion at the opening of the first session of the twenty-first congress. 
The era of bitter feelmg had grown more and more bitter. The 
doctrine of disunion had begun to be secretly discussed. So 
combustible were the elements of congress, and of the party 



foote's resolution. 259 

that supported the aflministration, and, in fact, of the adminis- 
tration itself, that only a spark was needed to blow up a conflar 
gration. That spark, unconsciously, accidentally, and inno- 
cently, was soon struck. 

On the 29th of December, 1829, a resolution was moved 
by Mr. Foote, a senator from Connecticut, in the following lan- 
guage : " Resolved, That the committee on public lands be 
instructed to inquire and report the quantity of public lands 
remaining unsold within each state and territory. And whether 
it be expedient to limit for a certain period the sales of the 
public lands to such lands only as have heretofore been offered 
for sale and are now subject to entry at the minimum price. 
And, also, whether the office of surveyor-general, and some 
of the laud-offices, may not be abolished without detriment to 
the public interest." To this resolution, as here stated, an 
amendment was subsequently added by the motion of a sena- 
tor from ]Mame, Mr. Sprague, in the following words : " Or 
whether it be expedient to adopt measures to hasten the sales 
and extend more rapidlj'^ the surveys of the public lands." 

Such a resolution, certainly, a resolution of mere inquiry, 
was innocent enough, and could not, under ordinary circum- 
stances, and in an ordinary state of public feeling, have pro- 
duced the protracted and celebrated debate which ensued. As 
the state of feeling was, in fact, it required no little tact, on the 
part of the disunion members of congress, to make the resolu- 
tion the means, or the parliamentary support, of the wide and 
rambling discussion of the general and sectional bearings of al- 
most every measure of the government since the adoption of 
the constitution. Mr. Calhoun, howevei", who was the source 
and center of the new doctrines, was in the chair ; and it was 
very much at his option to protract or limit the debate. He 
sat there, in the vice-presidential chair, secretly enjoying its 
progress, because he heard, almost every day for weeks, from 
the lips of his confederates, the advocacy of a doctrine to which 

VOL. I. 17 



260 ■WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

he looked with a fond and paternal care. From the 29th of 
December to the middle of the next month, the Great Debate, 
as the newspapers began to style it, like the broken-backed 
serpent of the poet, dragged its slow length along. It was soon 
destined to fall into hands capable of elevating it from the 
lowest depths of party strife to the height of a world-wide 
renown. 

That renown makes it important to set down, with more 
than usual minuteness, the chronological order of the entire de- 
bate. The original resolution, as has been stated, was offered 
by Mr. Foote on the 29th of December, 1829. Mr. Foote, 
in presenting it, made a very brief explanation of his object, 
which was, as he said, merely to elicit facts in regard to our 
public lands, Mr. Foote was answered by Mr. Benton, sena- 
tor from Missouri, in his boldest and somewhat intemperate 
manner. He declared it to be a resolution of inquiry, not in 
regard to the public lands exactly, but how New England could 
perpetrate a long-meditated wrong upon the interests of the 
west. This intention was disavowed at once, not only by Mr. 
Foote himself, but by several eastern members, who addressed 
the senate briefly on the day afler the resolution was intro- 
duced. At the close of that day's discussion of the subject, it 
was made the order of the day for January the 11th, 1830. 
It was not taken up, however, till the loth of January, when 
several western members spoke vehemently and very discur- 
sively against the resolution. It was then laid over to the 
18th, on which day Mr. Benton again took the floor and spoke 
at great length, violently resisting the inquiry, and closing up 
with a set and deliberate attack on New England and her pol- 
icy. He accused her of having always been unfi-iendly to the 
west. He declared that the west had grown only because she 
could prosper in spiie of the opposition of New England ; and 
he used language, and declared sentiments, which, to say the 
least, had perhaps never been paralleled, up to that period, in 



I 



HAVNE AS AN ORATOU. 2G1 

either the senate or the house. On the clay follov.-ing, Janu- 
ary the 19th, several eastern senators, and among them Mr. 
Holuies, of Maine, again disclaimed all intention of wronging 
the west, and defended New England from all imputation of 
the kind. When Mr. Holmes sat down, Mr. Hayne, of South 
Carolina, the rising favorite of his state and the champion of 
Mr. Calhoun in the senate, took the floor. 

Mr. Hayne was one of the youngest members of the senate. 
A spare but rather comely man, he possessed no small spright- 
liyess of talents, and a great readiness of speech. He had been 
of a very precocious character from his youth. Having risen 
to respectability as a speaker before he had become a man, 
immediately upon his reaching manhood and coming into pub- 
lic life, his oratory had given him position, emolument, and 
fame. As an orator, he was rapid, fiery, and of such remarka- 
ble quickness and facility of speech, that he seemed to run all 
round a slower adversary before he had time to think. By 
the time an opponent could get himself to understand what had 
been last said, and began to see through the force of it, the 
sprigthly genius would be oft", quick as light, on some other topic, 
pouring out a volley of words, of figures, of rhetoric all ablaze, 
which seemed to stun and blind whom it did not convince. 
Such was his rapidity of utterance, that, when most excited, he 
appeared to stiind in the centre of a halo of brilliant speech, al- 
most transfigured, with eye, lip, hands, feet, all on fire with a 
sort of tmnulous animation. In this peculiar way, he was 
very eloquent. Or rather, he was an astonishment. He was 
less remarkable for what he said, than for his way of saying it. 
Though not very able in point of argument, he was not desti- 
tute of logic. Scjmetimes he would throw out a thought, quick 
and unexpected, that hit a listener like a bullet. Withal, he 
was graceful, and, in general, courteous, though occasionally, 
when most rapt, he would utter language wiiich could not be 
regarded a3 entirely decorous. When his passions were dis- 



262 WEBSTER AND SIS MASTER-PIECES. 

turbed, he wouM become even personal, and violent, and offen- 
sive ; and the facility and rapidity of his utterance, which he 
and his friends took for power of speech, and in which, it was 
quite evident, he had a secret confidence, pushed him not in- 
fi-equently beyond his better judgment, and made him arrogant 
and supercilious. 

The speech of jMr. Hayne, in which he made a sensible im- 
pression on the lobbies, though but little on the senate, closed 
the discussion for that day. On the next day, January the 
20th, Mr. Webster made his first reply to this prodigy and 
champion of the south. Until Hayne had spoken, Mr. Web- 
ster had kept his seat, and had given no signs of his intending 
to address the senate on the resolution. He was, in fact, at 
that very time, daily and assiduously engaged in the supreme 
court, in the case of Carver's Lessees against John Jacob Astor, 
a cause which demanded his attention and occupied his thoughts. 
The speech of Mr. Hayne, however, brought the new doctrine 
of South Carolina so fully out, and made so bold and vigorous 
an attack on the New England States, that he could no longer, 
in duty to himself or to his constituents, keep his seat. His 
speech was a very calm argument, expressed in very moderate 
language, and delivered in a most conciliatory style, directly touch- 
ing the resolution before the senate. After a brief introduction, 
giving the reasons for his speaking on the question, and ex- 
plaining the question itself, he went on, in the first place, to re- 
ply to the statements of Mr. Hayne in relation to the policy 
of the government respecting the sale of the public lands. He 
showed conclusively that that policy had always been liberal 
and wise. Then he proceeded to examine JNIr. Hayne's ob- 
jection to a fixed revenue, or any revenue, as it served the 
pm-poses of what the South Carolina senator stigmatized as 
consolidation ; but Mr. Webster clearly proved, that it was 
not consolidation, in the bad sense in which this new school of 
politicians used the term, but in the patriotic import of the 



FIRST REPLY TO HAYNE. 263 

term as employed by Washington, that roused the opposition 
of these southern gentlemen. They opposed consolidation, that 
is, a settled general government, because they were out with 
that government, because tliey wished to overthrow it, and be- 
cause they intended, if successful, to erect their doctrine of state 
sovereignty, and state rights, and state independence, on the 
ruins of the constitution. Next Mr. Webster advanced to 
what Mr. Hayne had said, in the most invidious and offensive 
manner, against the New England states, because those states 
were friendly to a tariff; and he demonstrated, that, whatever 
the policy of protection was, whether good or bad, it was not 
originally a New England measure, but a measure adopted by 
New England from the hands of southern politicians, the leader 
of whom, Mr. Calhoun, was a South Carolina man. Mr. Ilayne 
had spoken largely and loudly, also, against the doctrine of in- 
ternal improvements ; and Mr. Webster next proved, by testi- 
mony taken from the speeches of southern members of con- 
gress, in fact by a speech of Mr. Mc Duffie, another South Car- 
olina congressman, that the south had itself once claimed the 
authorship, denying the honor to every other section of the 
Union, of that very system of internal improvements, which 
Mr. Hayne, with characteristic levity, now abandoned and 
abused. In all these respects, and at every period in the his- 
tory of the government, Mr. Webster showed, that New En- 
gland had pursued a liberal policy toward the western states, 
and a magnanimous and conservative course toward the south. 
As a general example of the effect of this generous course, he 
drew a picture of Ohio as she was about the time when the 
policy of the government, by the votes of New England, was 
established, and of Ohio as she had become, which has been 
everywhere and ever since admired: " And here, sir, at the 
epoch of 1794," said the senator, " let us pause and survey the 
Bcene, as it actually existed thirty-five years ago. Let us look 
back and behold it. Over all that is now Ohio there then 



264 WEBSTER AND I!IS MASTER-PIECES. 

sb'etched one vast wilderness, unbroken except by two small 
spots of civilized culture, the one at Marietta, and the other at 
Gncinnati. At these little openings, hardly each a pin's point 
upon the map, the arm of the frontier-man had leveled the for- 
est and let in the sun. These little patches of earth, themselves 
almost overshadowed by the boughs of that wilderness, which 
had stood and perpetuated itself, from century to century, ever 
since the creation, were all that had then been rendered ver- 
dant by the hand of man. In an extent of hundreds and thou- 
sands of square miles, no other surfxce of smiling green at- 
tested the presence of civilization. The hunter's path crossed 
mighty rivers, flowing in solitary grandeur, whose sources lay 
in remote and unknown regions of the wilderness. It struck 
upon the north on a vast inland sea, over which the wintry 
tempests raged as on the ocean ; all around was bare creation. 
It was fresh, untouched, unbounded, magnificent wilderness. 
And, sir, what is it now 1 Is it imagination only, or can it 
possibly be fact, that presents such a change as surprises and 
astonishes us, when we turn our eyes to what Ohio now is 1 
Is it reality, or a dream, that, in so short a period even as 
thirty -five years, there has sprung up, on the same surface, an 
independent state with a million of people? A million of in- 
habitants ! an amount of population greater than that of all the 
cantons of Switzerland ; equal to one third of all the people of 
the United States when they undertook to accomplish their in- 
dependence. This new member of the republic has already 
left far behind her a majority of the old states. She is now 
by the side of Virginia and Pennsylvania ; and, in point of 
numbers, will shortly admit no equal but New York herself. 
If, sir, we may judge of measures by their results, what lessons 
do these facts read us upon the policy of the government 1 
What inferences do they authorize upon the general question 
of kindness or unkindness 1 What convictions do they enforce 
as to the wisdom and ability, on tho one hand, or the folly and 



THE DEBATE CONTINUED. 2G5 

incapacity, on the other, of our general administration of west- 
ern affairs 1 Sir, does it not require some portion of self-re- 
spect in us to imagine, that, if our liglit had shone on the path 
of government, if our wisdom could have been consulted in its 
measures, a more rapid advance to strength and prosperity 
would liave been experienced ? For my own part, while I am 
struck with wonder at the success, I alsso loolt with admiration 
at the wisdom and foresight, which originally arranged and pre- 
scribed the system for the settlement of the public domain. 
Its operation has been, without a moment's interruption, to 
push the settlement of tlie western country to the extent of our 
utmost means." 

Clear and conclusive as was Mr. Webster's speech, it did not 
terminate the discussion of the resolution. It only roused up 
the southern members to put forth all tlaeir strength. They 
had achieved sometliing, tliey thought, in getting Mr. Webster 
to his feet It was their settled purpose, there is no doubt, not 
onlj' to attack New England and render her odious in the eyes 
of the otlier sections of the Union, but particularly to attack 
and demolish IMr. Webster, who had been ever the chief reli- 
ance of the New England states. No sooner, therefore, had 
'Mr. Webster taken his seat, than Mr. Benton stood up, ready 
to deal his heaviest blows on the head of the seiuitor from 
Massachusetts ; and the remamder of that day, January the 
20th, was thus occupied. The next day, Mr. Webster was 
under obligations to attend in the supreme court, where the 
case already mentioned was to come on for argument ; and 
Mr, Chambers, of Maryland, accordingly, with a becoming 
courtesy, and a eourtesy always extended heretofore on similar 
emergencies, moved an adjournment, or a postponement of the 
question, for Mr. Webster's accommodation. Mr. Ilayne, 
however, was too eager to be courteous. He rose and object- 
ed to aiiy postponement of the discussion. " He saw the gen- 
tleniim from INIassachusetts in his seat," he said, " and pre- 



260 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

sumed he could make an arrangement -which would enable him 
to be present, here, during the discusssion to-day. He was un- 
willing that this subject should be postponed before he had an 
opportunity of replyuig to some of the observations whicli had 
fallen fi*om that gentleman yesterday. He would not deny 
that some thmgs had fallen from liim which rankled here, 
[touching Ills breast,] from which he would desire at once to 
relieve himself. The gentleman had discharged his fire in the 
presence of the senate. He hoped he would now aflbrd him 
an opportunity of returning the shot." This last remark was 
uttered, it is said, in a very taunting and defiant air ; as if the 
South Caroluia senator felt that he had only to touch the taig- 
ger, and his great antagonist woidd fall. The tone of defiance, 
however, was not likely to mtimidate such a man as Mr. Web- 
ster. With a compassionate smile, he answered from his seat : 
" Let the discussion proceed ; I am ready, now, to receive the 
gentleman's fire ! " 

But it was not then Mr. Hayne's place to speak. Mr. Ben- 
ton had tlie floor ; and he had delivered only the exordium of 
his speech on the day before. He now proceeded, accordmg 
to his usual manner, to utter some sweeping charges against 
New England in relation to its bearmg in congress toward 
the west, and sustained his charges with great vehemence of 
style, by a few quotations of irrelevant votes, and by an hour 
or two's length of severe denunciation, higUy declamatoiy, 
but without his usual point. Mr. Hayne rose as Mr. Benton 
took his seat ; and, after speaking in reply to jNIr. Webster 
longer than Mr. Webster had himself spoken, he found him- 
self only at the tln-eshold of what he wished to say. Ex- 
hausted, and out of breath, he reached the hour of adjourn- 
ment, Vvhen, probably for his accommodation, the subject was 
postponed till the 25th, and made the special order for that 
day. The day arrived. The senate chamber and the lobbies 
were well filled with spectators. !Mr. Hayne proceeded with 



k 



HE DEBATE CONTINUED. 267 

his speech, -which consisted of a defense of the doctrine of 
South Carolina, which claimed the right, as a reserved state 
aiglit, of nullifying the laws of the general government, when- 
ever, in her opinion, those laws were plainly and palpably un- 
constitutional. He endeavored to show that the doctrine was 
not a new one ; that it had been originally set up by Virginia ; 
and that, what was expected by him, doubtless, to be a partic- 
ular and ti'iumphant overthi'ow of Mr. Webster, it had been 
maintained by numerous writers, orators, and even ministers 
in Massiichusetts. He spoke, this day, about two hours and a 
half; and !Mr. Webster rose, with the intention of makuig an 
immediate answer, the very moment when ^Ir. Haync took 
his seat. The day, however, was nearly gone ; and, as every 
one now seemed desirous to give Mr. Webster time to reply 
at length, the nullifiers themselves now feeling, after Mr. 
Hayne's great effort, that they could afford to be magnani- 
mous, and thus make the victory and the defeat more signal, 
the senate immediately adjourned. 

The next day was the day of days in the senate of the 
United States. It was the day never to be forgotten, as long 
as argument, and eloquence, and triumph, are words possessed 
of any meaning in any language or dialect on earth. It was 
the day of the delivery of the greatest parliamentary speech 
ever listened to on tliis continent ; and it was a day, whicli, 
for any similar or equal effort, will scarcely find a parallel, 
it may be, for a hundred generations. Never, till that day 
came, had the illustrious orator of New England, of Amer- 
ica, of the nineteenth century, been fully roused. Never 
had he felt called upon, or been pushed to put forth all his 
powers. Until that day, and that occasion, no man, not even 
his best friend and his warmest admirer, had known the full 
strength, the vast sweep, the unrivaled and resistless might of 
his massive, majestic, and imperial mind. It is likely that h© 
nad never been entirely conscious of his whole power himself, 

VOL. I. L 



S68 



WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 



From the conclusion of that day, however, his friends, his ene 
inies, the senate, the country, and the world, have been able to 
understand, with a nearer approach to truth, how much of 
every human faculty, how much of every possible endowment, 
how m.uch of every manner and measure of attainment, how 
much of every elen^ent that can eiiter into the mental and 
moral constitution of a man, is comprehended in the name, 
often used but seldom fathonied, of Daniel Webster. 

It is remarkable, very remarkable, that, of the hundreds 
who listened to that speech, and of the many who were 
entirely capable of appreciating and describing its delivery and 
effect, so few should have taken the pains to portray what they 
saw, and felt, and heard, hi fact, while the world has, ever 
smce its delivery, resounded with its fame, but two or three 
persons have ever given such account of it, as could aid mate- 
rially the imagination of other persons, or satisfy the curiosity 
of mankind. One of those individuals is Mr. Justice Sj^rague, 
at the time a senator from Maine, and the mover of the amend- 
ment to Mr. Foote's resolution, but now of the bench of Mas- 
sachusetts. Immediately upon the death of Mr. Webster, the 
circuit court, sitting in Boston, met to commemorate the event ; 
and Mr. Sprague was requested, as one of the speakers on the 
occasion, particularly to dwell, for the satisfaction of the court, 
on the great effort now under consideration. In compliance 
with this request, afler speaking generally of the unequaled tal- 
ents and attainments of Mr. Webster, he proceeded : " The 
©resent occasion does ixot permit m.e to verify these general 
remarks by specific ajid detailed x'eferences ; nor has the time 
arrived when his later efforts can. be dispassionately considered. 
But there is one speech, made so long since as to be now mat- 
ter of history, and involving no topic of personal excitement, 
of which 1 have been especially requested to speak, because it 
is the more celebrated ; and of the then senators from New 
Fngland, I am, with one exception, the only survivor ; and it is 



JUDGE SPRAGUe's OPINION. 2G9 

proper to speak of it here cand now, because a great, vital 
question of constitutional law was, by that speech, settled as 
completely and irrevocably as it could have been by the great- 
est minds in the highest judicial tribunals. 

" jNIr. Fuote's resolution involved merely the question of 
limiting or extending the survey of the public lands. Upon 
this, Air. Benton and Mr. Hayne addressed the senate, con- 
demning the policy of the eastern states, as illiberal toward 
the west. Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of New Eng- 
land and the policy of the government. It was then that Gen- 
eral Hayne made the assault which that speech repelled. 

"It has been asked if it be possible that that reply was made 
without previous preparation. There could have been no spe- 
cial preparation before the speech began to which it was an 
answer. When General Hayne closed, Mr. Webster followed, 
with the interval, only, of the usual adjournment of one night. 
His reply was made to repel an attack, sudden, unexpected, 
and almost unexampled, an attack on Mr. Webster personally, 
upon Massachusetts and New England, and upon the constitu- 
tion. 

"There can be little doubt that this attack was the re- 
sult of premeditation, concert and arrangement. His assailant 
selected his own time, and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to 
Mr. Webster, for at that moment, the supreme court were 
proceeding in the hearing of a cause of great importance, in 
which he was leading counsel. ^For this reason, he requested, 
through a friend, a postponement of the debate. General 
Hayne objected ; and the request was refused. The assailant, 
too, selected his own ground, and made his choice of topics, 
without reference to the resolution before the senate, or the le- 
gitimute subject of debate. The time, the matter, and the 
manner, indicate that the attack was made with a design to 
crush a formidable political opponent. To this end, personal 
history, the annals of New England and of the federal party 



270 



■WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 



were ransacked for materials. It was attempted to make him 
responsible, not only for what was his own, but for the opinions 
and conduct of others. All the errors and delinquencies, real 
or supposed, of • Massachusetts, and the eastern states, and of 
the federal party, during the war of 1812, and throughout their 
history, were to be accumulated on him. It was supposed, 
that, as a representative, he would be driven to defend what 
was indefensible, and to uphold what could not be sustained, 
and as a federalist, to oppose the popular resolutions of '98. 

" General Hayne heralded his speech with a declaration of 
war, with taunts and threats, vaunting anticipated triumph, as 
if to paralyze by intimidation ; saying that he had something 
rankling in his breast, and that he would carry the war into 
Africa, until he had obtained indemnity for the past and secu- 
rity for the future. 

" Mr. Webster evidently felt the magnitude of the occasion, 
and a consciousness that he was more than equal to it. On no 
other occasion, although I have heard him hundreds of times, 
have I seen him so thoroughly aroused. Yet, when he com- 
menced, and throughout the whole, he was perfectly self-pos- 
sessed and self controlled. Nevor was his bearing more lofty, 
his person more majestic, his manner more appropriate and 
impressive. 

" At first, a few of his opponents made some show of indif 
ference. But the power of the orator soon swept away all at 
fectation ; and a solemn, deep, absorbing interest, was mani- 
fested by all, and continued even through his profound discus- 
sion of constitutional law. 

" When he closed, the impression upon all was too deep for 
utterance, and, to this day, no one who was present has spo- 
ken of that speech, but as a matchless achievement and a com- 
plete triumph. When he sat down. General Hayne arose, and 
endeavored to restate and reenforce his argument. This in- 



MR. march's descriptiow, .271 

stantly c<a]lcd ftirth from Mr. Webster that final, condensed 
reply, which has the tbrce of a moral demonstration." 

This statement, however, authentic and comprehensive as it 
is, does not meet the demand which exists everywhere, and 
always will exist, to have a more particular description of 
the scene. The great artist, George P. A. Healey, has put 
the scene on canvas ; but painting, graphic and striking in 
such portraitures, is too limited in its range. The universal 
mind of the age wants the word-picture, a picture that can be 
indefinitely multiplied, and universally exhibited ; and such a 
picture has been given, with what precise accuracy persons not 
present will never be able entirely to determine, but which, 
if accurate, is certainly brilliant, and satisfactory : 

"It M'as on Tuesday, January the 26th, 1830" — says the 
writer, Mr. C. W. March, whom all subsequent historians 
and biogi-aphers will be compelled to quote* — " a day to be 
hereafter forever memorable in senatorial annals, — that the 
senate resumed the consideration of Foote's resolution. There 
never was before, in the city, an occasion of so much excite- 
ment. To witness this great intellectual contest, multitudes of 
strangei-s had for two or three days previous been rushing into the 
city, and the hotels overflowed. As early as nine o'clock of 
this morning, crowds poured into the capitol, in hot haste ; at 
twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the senate-chamber, — its gal- 
leries, floor, and even lobbies, — was filled to its utmost capa- 
city. The very stairways were dark with men, who hung on 
to one another, like bees in a swarm. 

" The house of representatives was early dcserljcd. An ad- 
journment would have hardly made it emptier. The speaker, 
it is true, retained his chair, but no business of moment was, or 

* Mr. Everett's abridgment of Mr. March's pages is adopted. Those wlio wish to 
read the nccouut entire, can do so in Mr. March's worlc — " Kerainiscences of Con 
gress" — which will well repay a penisal. 



272. WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

could be, attended to. Members all rushed in to hear Mr. 
Webster, and no call of the house or other parliamentary pro- 
ceedings could compel them back. The floor of the senate was 
so densely crowded, that persons once in could not get out, nor 
change their pos^ition ; in the rear of the vice-presidential chair, 
the crowd was particularly intense. Dixon H. Lewis, then a 
representative from Alabama, became wedged in here. From 
his enormous size, it was impossible for him to move without dis- 
placing a vast portion of the multitude. Unfortunately, too, for 
him, he was jammed in directly behind the chair of the vice- 
president, where he could not see, and hardly hear, the speaker. 
By slow and laborious eftbrt — pausing occasionally to breathe 
— he gained one of the wmdows, which, constructed of painted 
glass, flank the chair of the vice-president on either side. Here 
he paused, unable to make more headway. But determined 
to see Mr. Webster as he spoke, with his knife he made a large 
hole in one of the panes of the glass ; which is still visible as 
he made it. Many were so placed, as not to be able to see 
the speaker at all. 

" The courtesy of senators accorded to the fairer sex room 
on the floor — the most gallant of them their own seats. The 
gay bonnets and brilliant dresses threw a varied and picturesque 
beauty over the scene, sofl;ening and embellishing it. 

" Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or any other country 
had more powerful incentives to exertion ; a subject, the de- 
termination of which involved the most important interests, and 
even duration, of the republic ; competitors, unequaled in rep- 
utation, ability, or position ; a name to make still more glori- 
ous, or lose forever; and an audience, comprising not only 
persons of this country most eminent in intellectual greatness, 
but representatives of other nations, where the art of eloquence 
had flourished for ages. All the soldier seeks in opportunity 
was here. 

" Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal to, the destinies of 



march's description continued. 273 

the moment. Tlie very greatness of the hazard exhilerated 
him. His spirits rose with the occasion. He awaited the time 
of onset with a stem and impatient joy. lie felt like the war- 
horse of the Scriptures, — who ' paweth in the valley, and re- 
joiccth in his strength : who goeth on to meet the armed men; 
who sayeth among the ti-umpets, Ha, ha ! and who smelleth 
the battle afar ofl^ the thunder of the captains and the shouting,' 

" A confidence in his own resources, springing from no vain 
estimate of his power, but the legitimate offspring of previous 
severe mental discipline, sustained and excited him. He had 
guagod his opponents, his subject, and himself. 

" Pie was, too, at this period, in the very prime of manhood. 
He had reached middle age — an era in the life of man, when 
the faculties, physical or intellectual, may be supposed to attain 
their fullest organization, and most perfect development. 
Whatever there was in him of intellectual energy and vitality, the 
occasion, his full life and high ambition, might well bring forth. 

" He never rose on an ordinary occasion to address an ordi- 
nary audience more self-possessed. Tliere was no tremulous- 
ness in his voice or manner ; nothing hurried, nothing simula- 
ted. The calmness of superior strength was visible every- 
where ; in countenance, voice and bearing. A deep-seated 
conviction of the extraordinary character of the emergency, and 
of his aljility to control it, seemed to possess him wholly. If 
an observer, more than ordinarily keen-sighted, detected at 
times something like exultation in his eye, he presumed it 
sprang from the excitement of the moment, and the anticipation 
of victory. 

" The anxiety to hear the speech was so intense, irrepressi- 
ble, and universal, that no sooner had the vice-president as- 
sumed the chair, than a motion was made and unanimously 
carried, to f^ostp^^^ne the ordinary preliminaries of senatf)rial ac- 
tion, and to take up immediately the consideration of the reso- 
lution. 



274 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

" Mr. Webster rose and addressed the senate. His exor- 
dium is known by heart, everywhere : ' Mr. President, when 
the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thicli weather, 
and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails himself of the first 
pause in the storm, the earliest glance of the sun, to take his 
latitude, and ascertain how far the elements have driven him 
from his true course. Let us imitate this prudence ; and be- 
fore we float further, on the waves of this debate, refer to the 
point from which we departed, that we may, at least, be able 
to form some conjecture where w^e now are. I ask for the 
reading of tlie resolution.' 

" There w^anted no more to enchain the attention. There was 
a spontaneous, though silent, expression of eager approbation, 
as the orator concluded these opening remarks. And while 
the clerk read the resolution, many attempted the impossibility 
of getting nearer the speaker. Every head was inclined closer 
towards him, every ear turned in the direction of his voice — and 
that deep, sudden, mysterious silence followed, which always at- 
tends fullness of emotion. From the sea of upturned faces be- 
fore him, the orator beheld his thoughts reflected as from a 
mirror. The varying countenance, the suffiised eye, the earn- 
est smile, and ever-attentive look, assured him of his audience's 
entire sympathy. If among his hearers there were those w^ho 
affected at first an indifference to his glowing thoughts and fer- 
vent periods, the difiicult mask was soon laid aside, and pro- 
foimd, undisguised, devoted attention followed. In the earlier 
part of his speech, one of his principal opponents seemed deeply 
engrossed in the carefiil perusal of a newspaper he held before 
his flicc ; but this, on nearer approach, proved to be v^mde 
doivn. In truth, all, sooner or later, voluntarily, or in spite of 
themselves, were wholly carried away by the eloquence of the 
orator. 

" Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's ability to cope 
with and overcome his opponents, were fully satisfied of their 



march's description continued. 275 

error before ho had proceeded far in his speech. Their fears 
soon toolv another direction. Wlien they heard his sentences 
of powerful thought, towering in accumulative grandeur, one 
above the other, as if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach the 
very heavens themselves, they were giddy with an apprehen- 
sion that he would break down hi his flight. They dared not 
believe that genius, learning, any intellectual endowment how- 
ever uncommon, that was simply mortal, could sustain itself 
long in a career seemingly so perilous. They feared an Icariaa 
fall. 

" What New England heart was there but throbbed with 
vehement, tumultuous, irrepressible emotion, as he dwelt upon 
New England sufferings, New England struggles, and New 
England triumphs during the war of the revolution 1 There 
was scarcely a dry eye in the senate ; all hearts were over- 
come ; grave judges and men grown old in dignified life, 
turned aside their heads, to conceal the evidences of their 
emotion. 

" In one comer of the gallery was clustered a group of Mas- 
sachusetts men. They had hung fi-om the first moment upon the 
words of the speaker, with feelings variously but always warmly 
excited, deepening in intensity as he proceeded. At first, while 
the orator was going through his exordium, they held their 
breath and hid their faces, mindfiil of the savage attack upon 
him and New England, and the fearful odds agamst him, her 
champion ; as he went deeper into his speech, they felt easier ; 
when he turned Hayne's flank on Banquo's ghost, they breathed 
freer and deeper. But now, as he alluded to Massachusetts, 
their feelings were strauied to their highest tension ; and when 
the orator, concluding his encomium upon the land of their 
birth, turned, intentionally, or otherwise, his burning eye full 
upon them — thoj shed tears like girls ! 

" No one who was not present can understand the excite- 
ment of the scene. No one who was, can give an adequate 
VOL. I. L* 18 



276 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

description of it. No word-painting can convey the deep, in- 
tense enthusiasm, the reverential attention, of that vast assem- 
"bly — ^nor limner transfer to canvas their earnest, eager, awe- 
struck countenances. Though language were as subtile and 
flexible as thought, it still would be impossible to represent the 
full idea of the scene. There is something mtangible in an 
emotion, which cannot be transferred. The nicer shades of 
feeling elude pursuit. Every description, therefore, of the oc- 
casion, seems to the narrator himself most tame, spiritless, 

unjust. 

" Much of the mstantaneous effect of the speech arose, of 
course, from the orator's delivery — the tones of his voice, his 
countenance, and manner. These die mostly with the occasion 
that calls them forth — the impression is lost in the attempt at 
transmission from one mind to another. They can only be de- 
scribed in general terms. ' Of the effectiveness of Mr. Web- 
ster's manner, in many parts,' says Mr. Everett, 'it would be 
in vain to attempt to give any one not present the faintest idea. 
It has been my fortune to hear some of the ablest speeches of 
the greatest living oraors on both sides of the water, but I 
must confess, I never heard anything which so completely re- 
alized my conception of what Demosthenes was, when he de- 
livered the Oration for the Crown.' 

" The variety of mcident during the speech, and the rapid 
fluctuation of passions, kept the audience in contmual expecta- 
tion and ceaseless agitation. There was no chord of the heart 
the orator did not strike, as with a master-hand. The speech 
was a complete drama of comic and pathetic scenes ; one va- 
ried excitement ; laughter and tears gaining alternate victory. 

" A great portion of the speech is strictly argumentative ; an 
exposition of constitutional law. But grave as such portion 
necessarily is, severely logical, aboundmg in no fancy or epi- 
sode, it engrossed throughout the undivided attention of every 
intelligent hearer. Abstractions, under the glowing genius of 



march's description continued. 2T7 

tlie orator, acquired a beauty, a vitality, a power to thrill the 
blood ajid enlvindle the affections, awakening into earnest activ- 
ity many a dormant faculty. His ponderous syllables had an 
energy, a vehemence of meaning in them that fiiscinated, while 
they startled. His thoughts in their statuesque beauty merely 
would have gained all critical judgment ; but he realized the 
antii^ue flible, and warmed the marble into life. There was a 
sense of power in his language — of power withheld and sug- 
gestive of still greater power — that subdued, as by a spell of 
mystery, the hearts of all. For power, whether intellectual or 
physical, produces in its earnest development a feeling closely 
allied to awe. It was never more felt than on this occasion. 
It -had entire mastery. The sex, which is said to love it best 
and abuse it most, seemed as much or more carried away than 
the sterner one. Many who had entered the hall with light, 
gay thoughts, anticipating at most a pleasurable excitement, 
soon became deeply mterested in the speaker and his subject — 
surrendered him their entire heart ; and, when the speech was 
over, and they left the hall, it was with sadder perhaps, but, 
surely, with for more elevated and ennobling emotions. 

" Tlie exulting rush of feeling with which he went through 
the peroration, threw a glow over his countenance, like inspira 
tion. Eye, brow, each feature, every line of the face, seemed 
touched, as with a celestial fire. AU gazed as at something 
more than human. So Moses might have appeared to the 
awe-struck Israelites, as he emerged from the dark clouds and 
thick smoke of Sinai, his face all radiant with the breath of 
divinity ! 

" The swell and roll of his voice struck upon the ears of the 
spell-bound audience, in deep and melodious cadence, as waves 
upon the shore of the 'far-resounding' sea. -The Miltonic gran 
deur of his woi'ds was the fit expression of his thought, and 
raised his hearers up to his theme. His voice, exerted to its 
utmost power, oenetrated every recess or corner of tlie senate — 



278 •WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

penetrated even the ante-rooms and stairways, as he pronounced 
in deepest tones of pathos these words of solemn significance : 
' When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, 
the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and 
dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on states dis- 
severed, discordant, belligerent ! on a land rent with civil feuds, 
or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last 
feeble and lingermg glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign 
of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, 
still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their 
original luster, not a stripe erased nor polluted, not a single 
star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrog- 
atory as "What is all this worth?" Nor those other words 
of delusion and folly. Liberty first and Union afterwards ; but 
everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, bla- 
zing on all its ample folds, as they float over the .sea and over 
the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that 
other sentiment, dear to every American heart, Liberty and 
Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.' 

" The speech was over, but the tones of the orator still lin- 
gered upon the ear, and the audience, unconscious of the close, 
retained their positions. The agitated countenance, the heaving 
breast, the sufflised eye, attested the continued influence of the 
spell upon them. Hands that in the excitement of the mo- 
ment had sought each other, still remained closed in an uncon- 
scious grasp. Eye still turned to eye, to receive and repay 
mutual sympathy ; and everywhere around seemed forgetful- 
ness of all but the orator's presence and words." 

The speech, indeed, was over ; but the fame of it will re- 
main in the world, probably, as long as the English language. 
It will be read and admii-ed by scores and hundreds of coming 
generations. It is now universally regarded, in this country 
and in Europe, as the master-piece of modern eloquence. 
Neither Pitt, nor Fox, nor Burke, ever surpassed it. It will 



POPULARITY OF THE SPEECH. 279 

probably not be surpasssed, if it is ever equaled, on this conti- 
nent. Ages must pass, if the future is to be judged by what 
has been, before the man, the occasion, and the provocation 
will again come together, and make such an effort again possi- 
ble. It only remains for us, Americans, to remember that we 
owe the distinction of having produced the proudest and might- 
iest parliamentary effort since the days of the classic orators, to 
a man, an orator, a statesman, an American citizen, who, 
born in obscurity and raised to this exalted point of power en- 
tirely under the influence of those republican institutions which 
he so gloriously defended, accomplished enough to ]nako his 
country illustrious, and liis own name immortal. 

The immediate popularity of the speech is without a 
parallel in this country. It Ciilled forth the loudest encomi- 
ums from all the presses, whig and democratic, of the nation, with 
the exception, of coui'se, of those of South Carolina. It virtually 
closed the debate, though Mr. Foote's resolution continued be- 
fore the senate till the 21st of May, when it was indefinitely 
postponed ; but the controversy, and the doctrine on which it 
had been based in congress, was not given up by those mem- 
bers who had started it. It continued to occupy them for 
the next three years, during which period it was also Mr. 
Webster's chief care to watch and overturn their movements. 
In the first days of December, 1832, South Carolina passi'd her 
celebrated ordinance of nullification, which forbade the collection 
of the revenues of the United States accruing under the tariff of 
1828; and on thellthofthesamemonth,PresidentJackson,who 
had secretly gloried in Mr. Webster's victory over the vice-presi- 
dent, and that gentleman's faction of the democratic party, sent 
fjrlh his famous proclamation. The counter proclamation of Mr. 
Ilayne, now governor of his state, immediately succeeded, where- 
upon, as was calculated by Mr. Calhoun, who had resigned the 
vice-presidency and taken a seat in the senate. President Jackson 
laid the whole matter before congress in a special message, dated 



I 



280 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

January 16th, 1833 ; and, in five days afterwards, the Force 
Bill, or a bill " to make further provision for the collection of 
the revenue," was introduced into the senate by JMr, Wilkins, 
of Pennsylvania. On the 22d, Mr. Calhoun read to the senate, 
a series of resolutions in opposition to this bill, and afterwards 
sustained them by a speech, which, continuing through two days 
(the 15th and 16th of February) is generally regarded as the 
ablest of his published efforts. To this speech, Mr. Webster 
made an immediate reply, which occupied more than five hours 
in its delivery, and is looked upon by the best judges as supe- 
rior, in pure argument, to his more celebrated speech on 
Foote's resolution, but not so graphic, powerful or popular m 
style. In his answer to Mr. Hayne, he had a popular orator 
to meet ; and he had met him, and overwhelmed him, on his 
own ground, and in his own method. In his answer to Mr. 
Calhoun, he had to encounter a subtle logician, an acute and 
metaphysical dialectician ; and him he met, and him he mas- 
tered and routed from his strong-holds, by a logic more deep, 
by dialectics equally acute, and by a general strain of argu- 
ment which his antagonist never answered, nor tried to answer. 
So far as argument could go, in fact, the controversy here closed. 
The presses of the country, of both parties, again teemed with 
their admiration of his patriotism and abilities. With the 
highest honors of his own party now upon him, he received 
daily and hourly the eulogiums of the democratic party. The 
past and the present seemed to conspire to give him their ben- 
edictions ; Ex-President Madison, the champion of the older 
democracy of the country, and as the representative of that 
democracy, sent him an autograph letter, thanking him in the 
warmest terms for his services in overthrowing the South Car- 
olma faction ; and, stranger still, on the day when he made his 
closing speech against that fixction, the existing president of the 
United States, who embodied the principles, and sentiments, 
tind will of the ruling democracy of that period, sent him to 



DISTINGUISHED MARKS OP ESTEEM. 281 

the senate-chamber, as if to complete the form and reality of 
the ovation, in his owii carriage. At that moment, in fact, 
there was no individual in the country, nor a man on this 
continent, who carried in himself the respect, the influence, the 
power then possessed and exercised bj^ Daniel Webster. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SECOND TERM AS SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS. 

While following out the public career of a great man, the 
woiid is very apt to forget him almost altogether as a pri- 
vate individual. His household, his home, wliich to him, with 
all his labors and honors, constitutes the charmed center of 
his thoughts, and for the sake of which, as he sees things, 
are all his exertions, and all the fi"uits of his exertions, are 
scarcely recollected. "What others look upon with such admi- 
Tation as to blind them to all else in the great man's history, 
he regards as very trivial, as mere out-door talk, as a shadow 
of something far more real and infinitely more dear to him, 
when, his public character laid entirely aside as not to be now 
cared for, he sits at his own fireside, where the joys of the fam- 
ily are now his only joys, where its cares are liis sohcitudes, 
and where he basks in the soft sunlight, shaded though it occa. 
sionally be, of domestic love, peace and quietude. This is par- 
ticularly true in lookmg into the life of so great a man as Web- 
ster ; and we are sometimes compelled to turn our eyes back- 
ward, for a short time, at least, as at this moment, to bring 
up events, serene or sorrowful, pertaining to the domestic 
circle. 

It will be rembered, that, in the year 1808, and in the twen- 
ty-sixth of Ms life, Mr. Webster married Grace Fletcher, 
daughter of the Rev. Mr. Fletcher of Hopkinton, New Hamp- 
shire ; and if it be true, as has been remarked by Tacitus, that 
" the praise of a valuable wife should always rise in proportion 



\ 



I 



CHARACTER OF HIS WIFE. 283 

to the weight of censure that falls on such as dishonor the nup- 
tial union," the virtues of Grace Fletcher deserve a monument 
more durable than brass or marble. In addition to her personal 
beauty, and to the refinement of her well-developed and well- 
stored mind, she was renowned for the amiableness of her dis- 
position, the sweetness of her temper, and the overflowing be- 
nevolence of her heart, from childhood to womanhood, at home 
and everywhere, from the beginning to the end of her exist- 
ence. One ruling sentiment, if it were not a passion, was the 
characteristic of her being after marriage. That was her de- 
votion to her husband. In every sense of the word, in which 
it bears a consistent and proper meaning, ^Mr. Webster was 
her idol. She loved him with the deepest possible affection. 
She loved him as the husband of her youth, whom she received 
to her heart, Avhen he himself had nothing better than his own 
great and good heart to give ; and from the day of their ac- 
quaintance, particularly from the day of their marriage, his 
happiness was her daily study, his success was her constant 
theme, his renown, as he began to have a renown, and to grow 
in it, was watched, and cherished, and enjoyed next to the favor 
of God and the smile of heaven. They lived a most peaceful, 
pure and happy life. Their affection was mutual. Mr. Web- 
ster, whose sensibilities were uncommonly strong, and whose 
tenderness was equally sensitive and delicate, as has been seen 
in his feelings towards his mother, his father and his brotlier, 
gave to her his whole being, and joyed in her as the better 
essence and expression of his own higher life. She was not 
destined, however, to go with him to the end of his great ca- 
reer. She did not live, indeed, to see him at the acme of his 
greatness. Tliat fa\or, which would have been to her as a sec- 
ond life, was not given to her. In the year 1827, while ac- 
companying her husband to Washington, she was taken sud 
denly ill in the city of New York, and was cut down in the 
bloom and beauty of her ripe womanliood. She had lived with 



284 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

her illustrioas partner for nearly twenty years ; she had seen 
the coming shadow of his great fame ; she had read some of 
his greatest efforts, his oration at Plymouth, at Bunker Hill, 
and in Fanuell Hall over the memories of Jefferson and Ad- 
ams ; she had gone with him till he had become, by universal 
consent, the first of her country's lawyers and orators ; but she 
did not see him, by an acknowledgment so entirely unanimous, 
the first of living statesmen. That highest and last satisfiiction 
she never had ; and her husband never had his last and highest 
satisfaction of seeing her enjoy the full maturity of his reputa- 
tion ; nor did the world stop then, as it has never stopped since, 
to measure the mutual loss in this respect, or the far greater 
and deeper loss, of another character, suffered by the sorrowing 
survivor. His sufferings are described as being almost with- 
out a parallel. When he laid her in her low mansion, it is 
said that he clung to the spot, and would not, for a long time, 
be taken fi-om it. Wliile the tears ran down his face in streams, 
he was speechless, the only syllables he was heard to utter be- 
ing a word or two of pathetic eulogy on the character of the 
loved and lost : 



■ My true and honorable wife, 



As dear to me as arc tlic ruddy drops 
That visit my sad heart.! " 



Never was a truer or more heart-felt eulogy spoken by the 
lips of spontaneous and unflattering grief He felt every word 
of what he said ; and every syllable, with all that each could 
be made to mean, was seen to have a growing meaning in it, 
as the mourner passed away fi-om the grave, and mixed again 
in the world's great strife. 

From that day, alas ! the faithful historian is compelled to 
say, he was never entirely the same man he had been before. 
The bright star of his life had set. The soul that had attracted, 
guided, governed him, as a secret and unseen influence will often 



SECOND MARRIAGE. 285 

give direction to bodies of the greatest magnitude, governed, 
guided, attracted him no more. Thougli, to the last liour of liis 
existence, he contmued to look back to her, as the cynosure of 
all that was brightest in his recollection and experience, whom 
he ever mentioned, with a voice tremulous with affection, as 
the "mother of his cliiklren," it is quite certain, that the world 
never appeared wholly invituig to him from tlie hour of their 
separation ; and perhaps it is equally certaui, tliough the fact 
is almost too mournful to be made historical, that everything in 
the great life of this remarkably great man, such as there is some- 
thing of in every mortal's life, wliich would not stand the scru- 
tiny of a death-bed, or pass the ordeal of heaven were God un- 
feeling and unforgiving, may be referred to this bereavement, 
and to the struggles of a broken heart to dispel or dro^vn the 
memory of its grief 

Eemaining single for about tliree years, Mr. Webster was 
married, in 1830, to Miss Caroline Le Roy, daughter of Her- 
man Le Roy, of the city of New York, a lady of great personal 
attractions, of a superior mind and culture, who, ua every way, 
was worthy of the greatest of Americans, and who now sur- 
vives him. She lived to appreciate, to comfort, and to bless 
him. 

Returning to the public life of the great statesman, it will be 
at once plain, that the fiivor bestowed upon him by President 
Jackson, unless !Mr. Webster should choose to change his whole 
character and nature, could not be of long continuance. The 
ruling trait of the president was his resolution. His power of 
will was exceedingly great ; but it was not greater, though less 
disciplined, than that of Mr. Webster. The president's will 
was always the work of impulse under the guidance of some- 
thing like intuition. The will of Mr. Webster, in all its move- 
ments, was directed by deep study, extensive research, and the 
most careful deliberation. When his mind was once made up, 
however, there was no power on earth sti'oug enough to beud 



286 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

it. His principles, too, had been fixed for yaars ; and, though 
he now chanced to take a part, which his patriotism compelled 
him to take, but which happened to be the part taken also by 
the president under a patriotism equally sincere, he had by no 
means given up the doctrines of his whole life, and adopted the 
political system of the administration. Nor was it possible, by 
any flattering attentions, or by any promises from any quarter, 
to cause him to swerve at all from the line of duty which he 
had marked out for himself as a statesman. Not only were 
his political opponents, with either threats or blandishments, 
always and entirely unable to move him from his purposes ; 
but even his friends, his own party, so far as he ever had a party, 
were ever too weak in their influence over him to wield his 
mighty will, or cause him to falter for a moment in his in- 
dependence. 

This trait of his character was particularly manifest soon after 
the remarkable political events which have been last recorded. 
President Jackson had shown himself very friendly to Mr. 
Webster ; but when, in consequence of the discord of the ad- 
ministration party, and the dissensions of the existing cabinet, 
Mr. Van Buren resigned the chair of secretary of state, and 
was nominated to the senate as minister to England, Mr, "Web- 
ster had been foremost in that majority which rejected the nom- 
ination; and in the same year, 1832, he had advocated the 
passage of the bill introduced by Mr. Dallas, for the establish- 
ment of a United States Bank. 

The views which governed him in respect to these two great 
measures are expressed with all plainness and clearness by him- 
self. Speaking of the nomination of Mr. Van Buren, and defend- 
ing himself fi'om the suspicion of acting on party grounds, he 
comprehends the whole subject in a very small compass : "lam 
now fully aware, sir," says he, "that it is a very serious matter 
to vote against the confirmation of a minister to a foreign court, 
who has already gone abroad, and has been received and ao- 



REJECTION OF VAN BUREN. 287 

credited by the government to which he is sent. I am aware 
that the rejection of this nomination, and the necessary recall of 
the minister, will be regarded by foreign states, at the first 
blush, as not in the highest degree favorable to the character 
of our government. I know, moreover, to what injurious re- 
flections one may subject himself, especially in times of party 
excitement, by giving a negative vote on such a nomination. 
But, after all, I am placed here to discharge a duty. I am not 
to go through a formality. I am to perform a substantial and 
responsible duty. I am to advise the president in matters of 
appointment. This is my constitutional obligation ; and I shall 
perft)rm it conscientiously and fearlessly. I am bound to say, 
then, sir, that, for one, I do not advise nor consent to this nom- 
ination. I do not think it a fit or proper nomination ; and my 
reasons are found in the letter of instructions, wTitten by Mr. 
Van Buren, on the 20th of July, 1829, to Mr. McLane, then 
going to the court of England as American minister. I think 
these instructions derogatory, in a high degree, to the character 
and honor of the country. I think they show a manifest dis- 
position in the writer of them to establish a distinction between 
his country and his party ; to place that party above his coun- 
try ; to make interest at a foreign court for that party rather 
than for the country ; to persuade the English ministry, and 
the English monarch, that they have an interest in maintaining 
in the United States the ascendency of the party to which- the 
writer belongs. Thinkmg thus of the purpose and object of 
these insti-uctions, I cannot be of opinion that their author is a 
proper representative of the United States at that court. There- 
fore it is, that I propose to vote against his nomination. It is 
the first time/I believe, in modern diplomacy, it is certainly 
the first time in our history, in which a minister to a foreign 
court has sought to make favor for one party at home against 
another, or has stooped from being the representative of the 
whole country to be the repre-sentative of a party. And as 



288 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

this is the first instance in our history of any such transaction, 
so I intend to do all in my power to make it the last. For 
one, I set my mark of disapprobation upon it ; I contribute my 
voice and my vote to make it a negative example, to be shunned 
and avoided by all fuLur3 mini'^ters of the United States. If, 
in a deliberate and formal letter of instructions, admonitions 
and directions are given to a minister, and repeated, once and 
again, to urge these mere party considerations on the foreign 
government, to what extent is it probable the writer himself 
will be disposed to urge them, in his thousand opportunities 
of informal intercourse with the agents of that government 1 " 
hi his remarks on Mr. Dallas' bill for renewing the charter 
of the bank of the United States, delivered on the 25th of May, 
1832, he took occasion not only to state his reasons for sup- 
porting the measure, but also to give a key to all his votes in 
relation to the general subject ; and his argwnenta ad Jiomi- 
nem^ directed against Mr. Calhoun, which constitute at the 
same time his own defense, may be regarded as one of the 
most ingenious and conclusive passages that ever issued from 
his lips : " A considerable portion of the active part of life has 
elapsed," says the orator, " since you and I, Mr. President " — 
Calhoun was president of the senate — "and three or four other 
gentlemen, now in the senate, acted our respective parts in the 
passage of the bill creating the present bank of the United States. 
We have lived to little purpose, as public men, if the experi- 
ence of this period has not enlightened our judgments, and en- 
abled us to revise our opinions, and to correct any errors into 
which we may have fallen, if such errors there were, either in 
regard to the general utility of a national bank, or the details 
of its constitution. I trust it will not be unbecoiKjng the occa- 
sion, if I allude to your own important agency in the transac- 
tion. The bill incorporating the bank, and giving it a constitu- 
tion, proceeded from a committee in the house of representa- 
tives, of which you were chairman, and was conducted through 



UNITED STATES BANK. 289 

the house under your distinguished lead. Having recently 
looked back to the proceedings of that day, I must be permit 
ted to say, that I have perused the speech by which the sub- 
ject was introduced to the consideration of the house, with a 
revival of the feeling of approbation and pleasure with which I 
heard it; and I will add, that it would not, perhaps, now be 
QAAy to find a better brief synopsis than that speech contains, 
of those principles of currency and of banking, which, since they 
spring from the nature of money and commerce, must be es- 
sentially the same at all times, in all commercial communities. 
The other gentlemen now mth us in the senate, all of them, I 
believe, concurred with the chairman of the committee, and 
voted for the bill. My own vote was against it. This is a 
matter of little importance ; but it is connected with other cir- 
cumstances, to which I will for a moment advert. The centle- 
men with whom I acted on that occasion had no doubts of the 
constitutional power of congress to establish a national bank ; 
nor had we any doubts of the general utility of an institution 
of that kind. We had, indeed, most of us, voted for a bank, 
at a preceding session. But the object of our regard was not 
whatever might be called a bank. We required that it should 
be established on certain principles, which alone we deemed 
safe and useful, made subject to certain fixed liabilities, and so 
guarded, tliat it could neither move voluntarily, nor be moved 
by others, out of its proper sphere of action. The bill, when 
first introduced, contained features to which we should never 
have assented, and we accordingly set ourselves to work, with 
a good deal of zeal, in order to effect sundry amendments. Li 
some of these proposed amendments, the chairman, and those 
who acted with him, finally concurred. Others they opposed. 
The result was, that several most important amendments, as I 
tliought, prevailed. But there still remained, in my opinion, 
objections to the bill, which justified a persevering opposition, 
till they should be removed." 



290 WEBSTER AKD HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

The defense was certainly complete. The very bank, which 
the Jackson and Calhoun party were now doing their utmost to 
destroy, was their own offspring, the child of their own impor- 
tunity. They now maintained that any national bank would 
be unconstitutional ; but Mv. Calhoun, in the speech here praised 
by INIr. Webster, had defended the constitutionality of national 
banks with all his eloquence and logic. Neither Mr. Calhoun, 
nor the Jackson party, was in a position to be very grateful for 
the reminiscences or the eulogiums of Mr. Webster. 

The truth is, however, that the president had really enter- 
tained the dream of making something like a convert of Mr. 
Webster. He had never failed to ti-eat him with the highest 
consideration. His attentions to him personally had been 
marked as decidedly more than civil. His consciousness of 
great power in molding other minds to his ; his great success 
in this work during all his life ; and his knowledge of the fact, 
that Mr. Webster had never been a \dolent partisan, had fur- 
nished him with some faint hopes. But he scarcely compre- 
hended his undertaking. He did not see, that Mr. Webster's 
feebleness of attachment to party organizations arose from a 
consciousness of personal power not to be overmatched by that 
of General Jackson. He did not see, that the very weakness, 
socially considered, was only a phase of an unconquerable in- 
dependence, or self dependence, of character, which not even the 
military president could bend. The discussion of the bank 
bill of Mr. Dallas, however, had not discouraged General Jack- 
son. It had passed both houses of congress by strong majori- 
ties only to meet the presidential veto ; and Mr. Webster had 
taken up that veto, item by item, showing its fallacies, its in- 
consistencies, its shallowness of argument, with a masterly and 
unsparing hand ; but the president did not see, in all this, that 
there was no possibility of winning over a man, who, though 
he had differed from himself at different times, thereby gave 
iio proof of levity, but only that he dared to differ from any 



VISIT TO THE WEST. 291 

one, from his party, from his own past opinions, if need be, in 
support ot^his most deliberate and mature judgment. 

The mistake, however, was not that of General Jackson onl}^, 
but of many of his party, and of not a few of those, who had 
acted with ISIr. Webster. Some of the less-informed newspa- 
pers of that day, on both sides, occasionally threw out signifi- 
cant hints upon the subject ; and there seemed to be a sort of 
doubt growing up, among men ignorant of his true character, 
as to his future position as a politician. Never was a doubt 
more shallow, or more ungenerous. All the time, in all his 
course, Mr. Webster had been as true as the star to his princi- 
ples and to himself; and, though he was observant of every 
pulsation of the people in relation to the matter, he was in no 
hurry to take notice of it. 

During the recess of congress, in the summer of 1833, he 
had occasion to go west as far as the state of Ohio ; and while 
stopping a few days at Pittsburg, on his return homeward, he 
made an address to a large gathering of his fellow-citizens, at 
their urgent solicitation, in the course of which he dropped a 
few explanatory words not to be mistaken by those prepared 
to understand him : " It is but a few short months," he says, 
" since dark and portentous clouds did hang over our heavens, 
and did shut out, as it were, the sun in his glory. A new and 
perilous crisis was upon us. Dangers, novel in their character, 
and fearful in their aspect, menaced both the peace of the coun- 
try and the integrity of the constitution. For forty years our 
govenunent had gone on, I need hardly say prosperously and 
gloriously, meeting, it is true, with occasional dissatiiaction, 
and, in one or two instances, with ill-concerted resistance to law. 
Through all these trials it had successfully passed. But now a 
time had come when authority of law was opposed by author- 
ity of law, when the power of the general government was re- 
sisted by the arms of stale government, and when organized 
military force, under all the sanctions of state conventions and 
VOL. I. M 19 



292 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

state laws, was ready to resist the collection of the public rev- 
enues, and hurl defiance at the statutes of congress. 

" Gentlemen, this was an alarming moment, hi common 
with all good citizens, I felt it to be such, A general anxiety- 
pervaded the breasts of all who were, at home, partaking in 
the prosperity, honor, and happiness which the country had en- 
joyed. And how was it abroad ? Why, gentlemen, every 
intelligent friend of human liberty, throughout the world, looked 
with amazement at the spectacle which we exhibited. In 
a day of unparalleled prosperity, after a half century's most 
happy experience of the blessings of our Union ; when we had 
already become the wonder of all the liberal part of the world, 
and the envy of the illiberal ; when the constitution had so am- 
ply falsified the predictions of its enemies, and more than ful- 
filled all the hopes of its friends ; in a time of peace, with an 
overflowing treasury ; when both the population and the im- 
provement of the country had outrun the most sanguine antici- 
pations — it was at this moment that we showed ourselves, to 
the whole civilized world, as being apparently on the eve of 
disunion and anarchy, at the very point of dissolving, once and 
forever, that union which had made us so prosperous and so 
great. It was at this moment that those appeared among us, 
who seemed ready to break up the national constitution, and 
to scatter the twenty-four states into twenty-four unconnected 
communities. 

" Gentlemen, the president of the United States was, as it 
seemed to me, at this eventful crisis, true to his duty. He 
comprehended and understood the case, and met it as it was 
proper to meet it. Wliile I am as willing as others to admit 
that the president has, on other occasions, rendered important 
services to the country, and especially on that occasion which 
has given him so much military renowTi, I yet think the ability 
and decision with which he rejected the disorganizing doctrines 
of nullification, create a claim, than which he has none higher, 



SPEECH AT PITTSBCRGH. 203 

to the gratitude of the country and the respect of posterity. 
The appearance of the proclamation of the 10th of December 
inspired me, I confess, with new hopes for the duration of the 
republic. I regarded it as just, patriotic, able, and imperiously 
demanded by the condition of the country. I would not be 
understood to speak of particular clauses and phrases in the 
proclamation ; but I regard its great and leading doctrines aa 
the true and only true doctrines of the constitution. They con- 
stitute the sole ground on which dismemberment can be resisted. 
Nothing else, in my opinion, can hold us together. While 
these opinions are maintained, the Union will last ; when they 
shall be generally rejected and abandoned, that Union will be 
at the mercy of a temporary majority in any one of the states. 
" I speak, gentlemen, on this subject, without reserve. I 
have not intended heretofore, and elsewhere, and do not now 
intend, here, to stint my commendation of the conduct of the 
president in regard to the proclamation and the subsequent 
measures. I have differed with the president, as all know, who 
know anything of so humble an individual as myself, on many 
questions of great general interest and importance. I differ 
with him in respect to the constitutional power of internal im- 
provements ; I differ with him in respect to the rechartering of 
the bank ; and I dissent, especially, from the grounds and rea- 
sons on which he refused his assent to the bill passed by con- 
gress for that purpose. I difier with him also, probably, in the 
degree of protection which ought to be afforded to our agricul- 
ture and manufactures, and in the mamier in which it may be 
proper to dispose of the public lands. But all these differen- 
ces afforded, in my judgment, not the slightest reason for oppo- 
sing him in a measure of paramount importance, and at a mo- 
ment of gi-eat public exigency. I sought to take counsel of 
nothing but patriotism, to feel no impulse but that of duty, and 
to yield not a lame and hesitating, but a vigorous and cordial, 
Bupport to measures, which, in my couscience, I believed essen- 



294 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

tial to the preservation of the constitution. It is true, doubt- 
less, that if myself and others had surrendered ourselves to a 
spirit of opposition, we might have embarrassed, and probably- 
defeated the measures of the administration. But in sodoin'^. 
we should, in my opinion, have been false to our own charac- 
ters, false to our duty, and false to our country. It gives me 
the highest satisfaction to know, that, in regard to this subject, 
the general voice of the country does not disapprove my con- 
duct." 

It is true in history, as it is in common life, that a man of 
note is apt to receive his greatest measure of reproach in the 
midst of his greatest triumphs, as if Providence intended that 
the one should so counterbalance the other as to keep him 
from vanity, while the common individual, who does nothing 
to merit fame, does as little to provoke opposition, and so 
passes along tlirough his existence easily and smoothly. This 
general truth was exemplified, in another respect, in the his- 
tory of Mr. Webster. Besides being accused, even by his 
friends, of having leaned too much to the support of General 
Jackson, he was also denounced, at this time, as a consolida- 
tionist, who wished that the general government should s^^•al- 
low up the powers of the states. Tlie shallowness and wick- 
edness of this charge he laid open in the address at Pittsburgh : 
" I am quite aware, gentlemen, that it is easy for those who 
oppose measures deemed necessary for the execution of the 
laws, to raise the cry of consolidation. It is easy to make 
charges and bring general accusations. It is easy to call names. 
!For one, I repel all such imputations. I am no consolidation- 
ist. I disclaim the character altogether, and, instead of repeat- 
ing this general and vague charge, I will be obliged to any one 
to show how the proclamation, or the late law of congress, or, 
indeed, any measure to which I ever gave my support, tends, 
in the slightestest degree, to consolidation. By consolidation 
is understood a grasping at power, on behalf of the general 



NOT A COXSOLIDATIONIST. 295 

government, not constitutionally conferred. But the proelama- 
tion asserted no new power. It only asserted the right in the 
government, to carry into effect, in the form of law, power 
which it had exercised for forty years. I should oppose any 
grasping at-Jiew powers by congress, as zealously as the most 
zealous. I wish to preserve the constitution as it is, without 
addition, and without diminution, by one jot or tittle. For the 
same reason that I would not grasp at powers not given, 
I would not surrender, nor abandon, powers which are given. 
Those who have placed me in a public station, placed me there, 
not to alter the constitution, but to administer it. The power 
of change the people have retained to themselves. They can 
alter, they can modify, they can change the constitution entirely, 
if they see fit. They can tread it under foot, and make an- 
other, or make no other ; but while it remains unaltered by 
the authority of the people, it is om' power of attorney, our 
letter of credit, our credentials ; and we are to follow it, and 
obey its injunctions, and maintain its just powers, to the best 
of our abilities. I repeat that, for one, I seek to preserve to the 
constitution those precise powers with which the people have 
clothed it. While no encroachment is to be made on the re- 
served rights of the people, or of the states, while nothing is to 
be usurped, it is equally clear that we are not at liberty to sur- 
render, either in fact or form, any power or principle wliich 
the constitution does actually contain. And what is the 
ground for this cry of consolidation? I maintain that the 
measures recommended by the president, and adopted by 
congress, were measures of self-defense. Is it consolidation to 
execute laws 1 Is it consolidation to resist the force that is 
threatening to upturn our government 1 Is it consolidation 
to protect officers, in the discharge of their duty, from courts 
and juries previously sworn to decide against them ? Gentle- 
men, I take occasion to remark, that, after much reflection upon 
the subject, and afler all that has been said about the encroach- 



296 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ment of the general government upon the rights of the states 
I know of no one power, exercised by the general govern 
ment, which was not, when that instrument was adopted, ad 
mitted by the immediate friends and foes of the constitution to 
have been conferred upon it by the people. I know of no one 
power, now claimed or exercised, which every body did not 
agree, in 1789, was conferred on the general government. On 
the contrary, there are several powers, and those, too, among 
the most important for the interests of the people, which were 
then universally allowed to be conferred on congress by the 
constitution of the United States, and which are now ingeni- 
ously doubted, or clamorously denied." 

It cannot be denied that the forcible suppression of nullifi- 
cation had chafed the people of more states south than those 
of South Carolina. Though no other state had proposed resist- 
ance, the tariff of 1828 was decidedly unpopular in most of the 
slave states. To save the honor of South Carolina, which, 
discouraged with the business of resistance, and yet far from 
yielding a voluntary obedience to the laws, wished for some 
pretext for a return to its fealty, Mr. Clay, a southern man by 
birth and education, but an American of the broadest sympa- 
thies at heart, proposed a reduction of the complicated tariff 
system of 1828, to a general level of twenty per cent, duties 
on all imports of every kind whatever. No one could com- 
plain of this proposal, that it was not simple enough ; but, by 
rejecting all discrimination, it warred upon many interests of 
the country, while it over-fostered others, which needed and 
demanded no help from government. It was a mere blmd 
way of collecting the revenue, without encouraging any na- 
tional interest whatever, and without respect to the bearing 
of a tariff on the morals of the people. Spirituous liquors, 
cards, dice, and every evil thing, could come into the country 
as freely as books and bibles. The silks and satins of tho 
rich were to pay no more duty than the best hemp in tho 



Jackson's tour to the east. 297 

world, without which our shipping would suffer damage, or the 
expensive and delicate implements of mechanism, which had 
not been produced among us, and without which some branches 
of industry would be compelled to close their operations. We 
should be left with no power to favor the productions of a 
country, which favored us, nor to punish a nation which might 
take every opportunity to injure our domestic and foreign 
business. Such a tariff was particularly offensive to New Eng- 
land, and to the middle states, which depended for the success 
of tiieir manufactures on some sort of discrimination. A 
dead-level tariff, they believed, would be their ruin ; and so 
they looked to Mr. Webster, who did not care much to give 
South Carolina an opportunity of evading the embarrassment 
and dishonor of her position, before she had had time to real- 
ize and feel the force of it, to stand up in defense of the true 
manufacturing interests of his country. Mr. Webster did not 
disappoint this reliance. His efforts in opposition to Mr. Clay 
were among the most masterly speeches of the session. 

While Mr. Webster was on a second, visit of business to some 
of the middle states of the west, the president of the United 
States was making a sort of triumphal progress through New 
En^ifland, where he was overwhelmed with eulogies and honors 
from a people who fclt grateful for his efforts in sustaining the 
Union and the constitution. No sooner, however, had he re- 
turned to Washington, than he began to open a war upon the 
bank of the United States, an institution universally respected 
by the very people whose hospitalities he had just enjoyed ; 
and frora the opening of congress to the close of his second 
term, now just begun, he carried on hostilities against the cur- 
rency of the country, which terminated in the financial crash of 
the succeeding administration. His first step, the rashest he 
could have taken, was the removal of all the moneys of the 
government from the vaults of the general bank, and the de- 
positing of them in certain state banks for safe keeping. That 



298 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

is, merely because he had the power, without due notice, he 
demanded immediate payment to the government of the whole 
sum due it from the bank, that he might, if possible, bring 
about the fliilure of an institution, which, to that day, had not 
only always met its liabilities punctually, but frequently aided 
the government m its necessities. It was not only a rash but 
a most disasti'ous step. It was a step felt to the extremities 
of the country ; for the general bank, on so sudden a demand, 
had no resource but to collect, w'ith equal suddenness, all its 
demands on the smaller banks, which, in turn, were compelled 
to be equally abrupt and stringent with their Qwn customers. 
In this way, the shock given by the president ti'aveled down, 
from bank to bank, and from the smaller banks to the people, 
Avho at once felt the pressure through every ramification of so- 
ciety. Its severity fell mostly, as in every similar crisis, upon 
the poorer classes. "When this comprehensive and sudden de- 
mand, which created all these multiplied minor demands, had 
reached at last the thresholds of the common trader, mechanic 
and manufacturer, most of them found it difficult, many of 
them impossible, to meet the unexpected call on so short a no- 
tice. General compliance was a thing not to be expected ; 
while one failure, as in every business concatenation, when more 
money is demanded than had been provided for, multiplied 
itself continuously, till the whole country reached the brink 
of universal repudiation. 

So reckless, impolitic and portentous bad this step appeared 
to many of the personal and political friends of General Jack- 
son, and to a portion of his cabinet, that, after the order 
had been given by the president for the removal of the 
deposits, two removals from the office of secretary of the 
treasury had to be effected, before the order could find a rnan 
sufficiently servile to give it execution : " The charter of the 
bank of the United States," says Mr. Webster, " provided that 
the public moneys should be deposited in the bank, subject to 



REMOVAL OF THE DEPOSITS. 299 

removal by the secretary of the treasury, on grounds to be 
submitted to congress. In the session of 1832, congTcss had 
passed a resohition, by a very large majority, that the public 
deposits were safe in the custody of the banJc of the United 
States. General Jackson, having applied his veto to the bill 
for rcncAving the charter of the bank, was determined, not- 
vinthstanding this expression of confidence, tliat the public de- 
posits should be transferred to an association of selected state 
banks. The secretary of the treasury (Mr. M'Lane), having 
declmed to order the transfer, was appointed secretary of state, 
hi the expectation that his successor (Mr. Duane) would exe- 
cute the president's will in that respect. On the 10th of Sep- 
tember, 1833, an elaborate paper was read by GeneralJackson 
to the cabinet, announcing his reasons for' the removal of the 
deposits, and appointing the 1st of October, as the day when 
it should take place. On the 21st of September, Mr. Duane 
made known to the president his intention not to order the re- 
moval. He was dismissed from office and Mr. Taney, the 
present chief justice, appointed in his place, by whom the re- 
quisite order for the removal of the public moneys to the state 
banks, was immediately given." 

The battle of the bank was now fairly opened ; - and the 
president soon had sufficient occasion to learn whether Mr. 
Webster was a man to be bought up by the smiles of patron- 
izing power. From the first, Mr. Webster set his fixce against 
this piece of political injustice, and was the acloiowl edged cham- 
pion of the established policy and practice of the government. 
At the beginning of tlie struggle, he bore decided testimony m 
relation to the extent of the disaster which the new policy had 
even then produced : " I agree with those," he said, " who think 
that there is a severe pressure in die money market, and very 
serious embarrassment felt in all branches of the national in- 
dustry. 1 think this is not local, but general; general, at 
least, over every part of the country where the cause has yet 

VOL. I. M* 



SOO WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

begun to operate, and sure to become, not only general, but 
universal, as the operation of the cause shall spread. If evi- 
dence be wanted, in addition to all that is told us by those 
who know, the high rate of interest, now at twelve per cent., 
or higher, where it was hardly six last September, the depres- 
sion of all stocks, some ten, some twenty, some thirty per 
cent., and the low prices of commodities, are proofs abundantly 
sufficient to show the existence of the pressure. But, sir, labor, 
that most extensive of all interests, American manual labor, 
feels, or will feel, the shock more sensibly, far more sensibly, 
than capital, or property of any kind. Public works have 
stopped, or must stop ; great private undertakings, employing 
many hands, have ceased, and others must cease. A great 
lowering of the rates of wages, as well as a depreciation of 
property, is the inevitable consequence of causes now in full 
operation." Next, he went on to show, that, in this war waged 
by the executive against the fiscal agent of the government, 
there was no recourse but to congress, which was bound to in- 
terfere, and maintain the currency and credit of the country. 

As a foundation for his first speech on the removal of the 
deposits, ]\Ir. Webster had read a series of resolutions passed 
by a meeting of Boston merchants and mechanics. On the 
30th day of January, Mr. Wright, of New York, also read to 
the senate several resolutions passed by the legislature of New 
York, approving the removal of the deposits, and disapproving 
of any bank of the United States, hi the course of the speech 
supporting these resolutions, Mr. Wright distinctly announced 
that he was opposed to the rechartering of the bank, and to the 
creation of any other ; that the bank had grossly violated its 
charter ; that, however, he had deeper and gi'aver reasons for 
his opposition ; that the distress of the community, in financial 
matters, was the fault of the bank, and not of the removal of 
the deposits ; that he would sustain the president, by every 
means in his power, in his effort to substitute the agency of 



UEUATES ON THE SUBJECT. 301 

the state banks for the hank of the United States, as the fiscal 
agent of the government. 

In reply to these resohitions, and to the remarks of Mr. 
"VVrlght, ]Mr. Webster dehvered his second speech, near the 
opening of which he presents a fine picture of the senate in its 
debates on the subject, and gives an account of public opinion 
upon it at that time : " But the gentleman has discovered, or 
he thinks he has discovered, motives for the complaints which 
arise on all sides. It is all but an attempt to bring the admin- 
istration into disfavor. This alone is the reason why the re- 
moval of the deposits is so strongly censured ! Sir, the gen- 
tleman is mistaken. He does not, at least I think he does not, 
rifditlv understand the sims of the times. The cause of the 
complaint is much deeper and stronger than any mere desire 
to produce political effect. The gentleman must be aware, 
that, notwithstanding the great vote by which the New York 
resolutions were carried, and the support given by other pro- 
ceedings to the removal of the deposits, there are many as ar- 
dent friends of the president as are to be found anywhere, who 
exceedingly regret and deplore the measure. Sir, on this floor 
there has been going on for many weeks as interestmg a de- 
bate as has been witnessed for twenty years ; and yet I have 
not heard, among all who have supported the administration, a 
single senator say that he approved the removal of the depos- 
its, or was glad it had taken place, \mtil the gentleman from 
New York spoke. I sa\v the gentleman from Georgia ap- 
proach that point ; but he shunned direct contact. He com- 
plained much of the bank ; he insisted, too, on the power of 
removal ; but I did not hear him say he thought it a wise act. 
The gentleman from Virginia, not now in his seat, also de- 
fended the pov/er, and has arraigned the bank ; but has he said 
that he approved the measure of removal 1 I have not met 
with twenty individuals, in or out of congress, who have ex 
pressed an approval of it, among the many hundreds whose 



302 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

opinions I have heard — not twenty, who have maintained that 
It was a wise proceeding ; but I have heard individuals of am- 
ple fortune, although they wholly disapproved the measure, de- 
clare, nevertheless, that, smce it was adopted, they would sac- 
rifice all they possessed rather than not support it. Such is 
the warmth of party zeal ! " The object of tliis speech was to 
show the necessity of a national bank for the safe keeping of 
the public moneys ; the necessity of restoring the deposits to 
the national bank ; and the disasters which would follow a per- 
sistence in the course of opposition now set down as the estab- 
lished policy of the administration. 

Mr. Tallmadge, of New York, replied to Mr. Webster, de- 
nying, in the most emphatic manner, the constitutionality of 
the bank of the United States, but maintaining the right of the 
secretary of the treasury to use the state banks as the fiscal 
agent of the government ; and Mr. Webster, at the opening 
of the session of the next day, spoke briefly in answer to both 
of the New York senators. He argued that the power to iise 
a bank, granted by Mr. Tallmadge, implied the power to cre- 
ate one ; that, if one act was constitutional, the other must be 
also ; and that the constitutional power of congress was no 
longer a deba"table question, as it had been debated and deter- 
mined too frequently to need any farther argument : " I do 
not intend now, Mr. President," he says, " to go into a regu- 
lar and formal argument to prove the constitutional power of 
congress to establish a national bank. That question has been 
argued a hundred times, and always settled the same way. 
The whole history of the country, for almost forty years, proves 
that such a power has been believed to exist. All previous 
congresses, or nearly all, have admitted or sanctioned it ; the 
judicial tribunals, federal and state, have sanctioned it. The 
supreme court of the United States has declared the constitu- 
tionality of the present bank, after the most solemn argument, 
without a dissenting voice on the bench. Every successive 



CONTINUATION OF THE DEBATE, 303 

president has, tacitly or expressly, admitted the power. The 
present president has done this ; he has informed congress that 
he could furnish the plan of a bank, which should conform to 
the constitution. In objecting to the recharter of the present 
bank, he objected for particular reasons ; and he has said that a 
bank of the United States would be useful and convenient for 
the people." Though disclaimmg all intention of arguing the 
subject, it would not be easy, so far as authority goes, to 
construct a more perfect argument ; and there are passages m 
this speech of such power of logic and force of expression as 
Mr. Webster himself seldom surpassed. 

The gi-eat struggle, however, was not closed. On the 21st 
day of February, Mr. Forsyth, of Georgia, read to the senate 
a memorial from JNIaine, and accompanied the reading with a 
speech, in which he declared that the plan of the administra- 
tion was, to return to an exclusive specie currency, first, by 
employing the state banks instead of the general bank, and sec- 
ondly, by dispensing at last with the state banks themselves. 
Mr. Webster replied to Mr. Forsyth in a strain of invective, 
sarcasm, ridicule and argument, sound and irresistible argu- 
ment, enough to overwhelm a much abler antagonist ; but Mr. 
Forsyth stood up and attempted a reply. This again called 
out Mr, Webster, On Friday, March the 7th, in presenting a 
memorial fi-om the building mechanics of the city and county 
of Philadelphia; on Tuesday, March 18th, on jDresenting an- 
other memorial from citizens of Boston ; on Friday, March 
28th, on offering another fi-orn citizens of Albany ; and on 
Tuesday, April 25th, on reading a fourth from three thousand 
citizens of Ontario county. New York, he spoke briefly, in ex- 
planation of his ovm views and of the outraged feelings of the 
whole country. He spoke again on the 20tli of May, on pre- 
senting to the senate a memorial from the citizens of Columbia, 
Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, and again on the 3d of June, 
on the reading, by Mr, McKean, of the memorial of the Penn- 



301 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

sylvania state convention ; but the longest and ablest of all his 
productions, at this time, on the suliject of the currency, was 
his report from the committee on finance, of which he was 
chairman, read on the 5th of Eebruarj^ of this year. It is a 
document worthy of the frequent perusal of every statesman ; 
and we have no statesman who would not enlighten himself 
by pondering deeply on the positions and arguments so care- 
fully drawn up and forcibly expressed. 

His next eftbrt in relation to the currency, which, during the 
second term of General Jackson's administration, was the ab- 
sorbing topic in the senate, and in the house, was his speech, 
delivered on the 18th of March, on the presentation of his own 
bill for continuing the charter of the United States bank for six 
years after the expiration of its existing charter ; and this was 
followed, on the 7th of May, by a speech in reply to the presi- 
dent, who had sent to the senate, on the 15th of April, a vio- 
lent and somewhat angry protest against the proceedings of the 
senate in reference to the removal of the deposits. This latter 
speech was regarded, at the time of its delivery, by the best 
judges, as the ablest that Mr. Webster had ever made since 
his reply to Hayne. " You never," said Chancellor Kent, in a 
letter of approbation to the orator, — "you never equaled this 
effort. It surpasses everything in logic, in simplicity, and 
beauty, and energy of diction, in clearness, in rebuke, in sar- 
casm, in patriotic and glowing feeling, in just and profound con- 
stitutional views, in critical severity, and matchless strength. 
It is worth millions to our liberties." And Governor Tazewell, 
ill a letter to Mr. Tyler, employs equally emphatic language : 
"Tell Webster from me," he says, "that I have read his speech 
in the National Intelligencer with more pleasure than any I 
have lately seen. If the approbation of one, who has not been 
used to coincide with him in opinion, can be grateful to him, 
he has mine in exienso. I agree with him perfectly, and thank 
him cordially for his many excellent illustrations of what I al- 



SUCCESS OF HIS SPEECHES. S05 

ways thought. If it is published in a pamphlet form, bew him 
to send me one. I will have it bound in good Russia leather, 
and leave it as a special legacy to my children." The first 
raptures of aJmiration may have done injustice to other speeches 
of Air. Webster ; but it cannot be doubted that this is one of 
the master-pieces of that ^eat statesman. As in his reply to 
Harae, he was thoroughly roused. The interference of the 
president with the clear prerogatives of the senate was so glar- 
ing a bre-ach of privilege, that it stirred his indignation to the 
bottom ; and he spoke with an earnestness, a sincerity, a sin- 
gleness and power of purpose, whose meaning could not be 
mistaken. Not only was the whole speech remarkably able, 
but there are passages in it, which even he never equaled. 
Guarding himself, near the beginning of his speech, against the 
objection, that there was no occasion for so much feeling, that 
it was only the assertion of a prmciple, not any overt act, on 
the part of the president, which had given occasion to the de- 
bate, he strikes out into one of his boldest strains of rhetoric, 
and closes with a figure, which, probably, has no superior in the 
English language : " The senate regarded this interposition," 
said the orator, " as an encroachment by the executive on other 
branches of the government ; as an interference with the legis- 
lative disposition of the public treasure. It was strongly and 
forcibly urged, yesterday, by the honorable member from 
South Carolina, that the true and only mode of preserving any 
balance of power, in mixed governments, is to keep an exact 
balance. This is very true ; and to this end encroachment 
must be resisted at the first step. The question is, therefore, 
whether, upon the true principles of the constitution, this exer- 
cise of power by the president can be justified. Whether the 
consequences be prejudicial or not, if there be an illegal exer- 
cise of power, it is to be resisted in the proper manner. Even 
if no harm or inconvenience result fi'om transgressing the bound- 
ary, the intrusion is not to be sufFcred to pass unnoticed. 



306 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Every encroachment, great or small, is important enough to 
awaken the attention of those, who are intrusted with the pre- 
servation of a constitutional government. We are not to wait 
till great public mischiefs come, till the government is over- 
thrown, or liberty itself put into extreme jeopardy. We 
should not be worthy sons of our Withers were we so to regard 
great questions affectmg the general freedom. Those fathers 
accomplished the revolution on a strict question of principle. 
The parliament of Great Britain asserted a right to tax the col- 
onics in all cases whatsoever ; and it was precisely on this ques- 
tion that they made the revolution turn. The amount of taxa- 
tion was trifling, but the claim itself was inconsistent with lib- 
erty ; and that was, in their eyes, enough. It was against the 
recital of an act of parliament, rather than against any suffering 
mider its enactments, that they took up arms. They went to 
war against a preamble. They fought seven years against a 
declaration. They poured out their treasures and their blood 
like water, in a contest against an assertion, which those less 
sagacious and not so well schooled in the principles of civil lib- 
erty would have regarded as barren phraseology, or mere pa- 
rade of words. They saw ui the claim of the British parlia- 
ment a seminal principle of mischief, the germ of unjust j)ower ; 
they detected it, dragged it forth from underneath its plausible 
disguises, struck at it ; nor did it elude either their steady eye 
or their well-directed blow till they had extirpated and de- 
stroyed it, to the smallest fibre. On this question of prmciple, 
while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised their flag 
against a power, to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and 
subjugation, Rome, m the height of her glory, is not to be com- 
pared ; a power which has dotted over the surface of the whole 
globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning 
drum-beat, following the sun, and keeping company with the 
hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain 
of the martial airs of England." 



CLOSK OF Jackson's administration. 307 

The administration of General Jackson was now rapidly 
coming to a close. The great battle of the currency -was now 
fought. The results of the financial policy of the administra- 
tion were now universally felt and aclmowledged to be evil and 
only evil. Tlie country stood on the borders of imiversal bank- 
ruptcy. The general election was approachuig, when Jackson's 
successor was to be chosen ; and, in the twenty-fourth congress, 
while the country was preparing for the presidential campaign, 
there was but little left for ]\Ir. Webster. He had done his duty. 
He had done it nobly and in a most masterly manner. He 
now felt that he could leave the result of his own labors with 
the people ; though he vmdoubtedly believed that Jackson's suc- 
cessor would be the man whom the president had adopted for 
this high honor. Tliree facts, m spite of all the gigantic efforts 
of ]Mr. Webster, and of those who acted with liim, were enough 
to give the election to Mr. Van Buren. hi the first place, he 
carried with him the marked and special approbation of the reti- 
ring president, who, notwithstanduig the disastrous nature and 
results of his experiments as a civilian, was all the more popu- 
lar wth the vociferous and headlong, all over the country, of 
his party. Li the second place, the people had been made to 
believe, to a remarkable extent, that the now general and ac- 
knowledged distress of the coimtiy was owing, not to the blun- 
ders and recklessness of the executive, but to the efforts of the 
expiring bank of the United States, which wished to throw dis- 
credit, by way of revenge, upon the president for his opposi- 
tion to the renewal of its charter. Lastly, the rejection of Mr. 
Van Buren, as mmister to England, when he was already there, 
was regarded as political persecution of a most extraordinary 
character ; and not only the party, but thousands of moderate 
men who vote according to their current views at the time of 
an election, looked upon Mr. Van Buren as a sort of martyr. 
Mr. Van Buren, therefore, was chosen to succeeed General 
Jackson. 

VOL. I. 20 



SOS WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

During the remainder of General Jackson's term, ho-wcver, 
Mr. Webster continued to be the leader of the opposition in the 
senate, though Mr. Clay must be confessed as equally popular, 
and perhaps equally deserving, before the country. There was 
no longer any occasion for great efforts on the subject of the 
currency. Some other topics, not without their interest, 
claimed the attention of Mr. Webster. On the 12th of Janu- 
ary, 1835, he delivered an elaborate speech on the bill granting 
indemnity to citizens of the United States for French spoha- 
tions on American commerce prior to 1800 ; but his views on 
that subject had been long before the public, and, consequently, 
the speech now made did not particularly affect his reputation. 
On the 16th of February, of the same year, he delivered an- 
other speech of more general popularity. It was in regard to 
the appointing and removing power exercised jointly by the 
president and senate. The administration had set up some 
strange pretensions to prerogative miknown to the constitution, 
and unknown to the previous practice of the government. A 
bill was brought into the senate, entitled " an act to repeal the 
first and second sections of the act to limit the term of service 
of certain officers therein named," the express object of which 
was to secure the reduction of executive patronage and influ- 
ence. This was a topic that touched Mr. Webster's heart. 
He had seen so many encroachments of late, on the powers of 
the senate, and on the powers of congress, that he felt like doing 
somethmg to render the evil less possible in time to come. 
His speech on the subject was very able ; and it did not a little 
toward givuig the last blow to a falling administration, and pre- 
paring the public for that remarkable revolution that succeeded. 
But the greatest and heaviest blow ever given to the admin- 
istration of General Jackson, by one of its opponents, was the 
speech of Mr. Webster to the merchants of New York, deliv- 
ered in Niblo's Saloon, on the 15th of March, 1837, eleven 
days afler the accession of Mr. Van Buren. Tlie blow was 



OPENING OF VAN BUREn's ADMINISTRATION. 309 

struck, not because that administration itself was any longer 
of any consequence to the public, but because it had been 
adopted, formally and in words, by Mr. Van Buren as the 
model of his own administration. It was, therefore, only an- 
other engagement in the memorable war between the govern- 
ment and the currency ; and it certainly, in any point of light 
in which it can be viewed, was a victory. It is one of the 
soundest, ablest, and most eloquent of all the great statesman's 
speeches. It was a review of the entire course of General 
Jackson as president of the republic. Though searching and 
caustic, it was temperate in style, moderate in spirit, even 
diaritable to the infirmities of human nature, but inexpressibly 
severe in the matter and manner of its logic. It is the best 
history of General Jackson's administration now in print ; for, 
while the art of the orator is always to be suspected, it 
narrates and states facts with the precision and candor of a 
historian. 

The first official act of Mr. Van Buren was to call an extra 
session of congress to take into consideration the financial em- 
barrassments of the country. This was an open confession of 
wliat the administration of General Jackson had continually 
and strenuously denied. It was a confession that the country, 
the whole country, not any particular part or parts of it, was 
in a state of pecuniary suffering. It was a confession, too, of 
great political value to the party of the opposition, who did 
not fail to point the country to the state of prosperity almost 
unexampled in the history of the republic, which immediately 
preceded General Jackson's war upon the currency. It was a 
confession, however, which Mr. Van Buren, in the exercise of 
that peculiar sagacity which characterizes him, did not hesitate 
to make, because, should his term of office close unhappily, he 
could the more readily refer his failure to the disastrous cir- 
cumstances under which it commenced. Should his adminis- 
tration, on the other hand, prove successfol, it would be easy 



■310 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

for him, and for his partisans, lo claim the more credit to his 
statesmanship, by as much as the end of his term should ex- 
ceed in prosperity its beginning. 

The extra session met in the month of September, 1837 ; 
and it was here that congress first grappled with the sub-treas- 
ury scheme, which was brought forward by Mr. Van Buren as 
a means of savmg the country from the financial embarrass- 
ments brought upon it by the blunders and obstmacy of the 
preceding administi'ation. Those embarrassments had now 
become insupportable. In the month of May pre\dous, nearly 
all the banks in the country had simultaneously suspended spe- 
cie payments. The banks of deposit, in which were lodged 
the funds of the United States treasury, were among the very 
first to join in this act of suspension ; and this at once involved 
the government in the difficulty. It had been customary for 
the government to meet its daily wants by issuing drafts upon 
the banks of deposit, which, heretofore, had met these drafts, 
either by paying out their owTi bills, or in gold and silver. 
Now, however, the holder of a draft drawn by the secretary 
of the treasury of the government of the United States, which 
any one would suppose should be good for its own orders, could 
get nothing but the notes of certain state banks, which had re- 
fused to meet them on demand. That is, the government 
owed a debt to-day, and the only satisfaction it could give its 
creditor, was an order on a private corporation, which met the 
order only with a confession of inability of paying it to-day, 
but with a promise to pay it to-day (for bank notes are made 
payable on demand) when all parties understood the insincerity 
and comparative worthlessness of that promise. In other 
words, the government of the United States had become insol- 
vent ; and the question of course was, on the opening of the 
extra session of congress, how to restore the solvency and credit 
of the country. 

This question was met, on the part of the administration, 



SUB-TREASURY SYSTEM. 311 

first, by withholding from the states the fourth installment of 
the surplus revenue, and secondly, by the proposition of t\'Q 
sub-treasury scheme, which was a system of keeping and dis- 
bursing the funds of the general government, without the inter- 
vention of any bank or banks. Both these measures were 
opposed by Mr. Webster. He thought that the withholding 
of the surplus revenue from the states, according to the prom- 
ise of the government, would rather increase than allay the 
panic now fixllen upon the country ; and to the sub-treasury 
system, he opposed a series of objections, in a speech delivered 
on the 28th of September, 1837, which reexamined the entire 
subject of the currency from the beginning of the government. 
No better history of the currency is extant than that contained 
in the exordium of this great speech : " The government of 
the United States," says the orator, " completed the forth-eighth 
year of its existence, under its present constitution, on the third 
day of March last. During this whole period, it has felt itself 
bound to take proper care of the currency of the country ; 
and no administration has admitted this obligation more clearly 
or more frequently than the last. For the fulfillment of this 
acknowledged duty, as well as to accomplish other useful pur- 
poses, a national bank has been maintained for forty out of 
these forty-eight years. Two institutions of this kind have been 
created by law ; one commencing in 1791, and being limited 
to twenty years, expiring in 1811; the other commencing 
in 181G, mth a like term of duration, and ending, therefore, in 
1836. Both these institutions, each m its time, accomplished 
their purposes, so far as the currency was concerned, to the 
general satisfection of the country Before the last bank ex- 
pired, it had the misfortune to incur the enmity of the late ad- 
ministration. I need not, at present, speak of the causes of this 
hostility. My purpose only requires a statement of that fact, 
as an important one in the chain of occurrences. The late 
president's dissatisfaction with the bank was intimated in hia 



312 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

firs'; annual message, that is to say, in 1829. But the bank 
'jS')od very well with the country, the president's known and 
growing hostility notwithstanding, and in 1832, four years be- 
fore its charter was to expire, both houses of congress passed 
a bill for its continuance, there being in its favor a large ma- 
jority of the senate, and a larger majority of the house of rep- 
resentatives. The bill, however, was negatived by the presi- 
dent. In 1833, by an order of the president, the public mo- 
neys were removed from the custody of the bank, and were 
deposited with certain select state banks. This removal was 
accompanied with the most confident declarations and assu- 
rances, put forth in every form, by the president and the secre- 
tary of the treasaiy, that these state banks would not only 
prove safe depositories of the public money, but that they 
would also furnish the country with as good a currency as it 
ever had enjoyed, and probably a better ; and would also ac- 
complish all that could be wished ui regard to domestic ex- 
changes. The substitution of state banks for a national insti- 
tution, for the discharge of these duties, was that operation 
which has become known, and is likely to be long remembered, 
as the 'Experiment.' 

" For some years, all was said to go on extremely well, al- 
though it seemed plain enough to a great part of community, 
that the system was radically vicious ; that its operations were 
all inconvenient, clumsy, and wholly inadequate to the pro- 
posed ends ; and that, sooner or later, there must be an explo- 
sion. The admmistration, however, adhered to Its experiment. 
The more it was complained of by the people, the louder it was 
praised by the administration. Its commendation was one of 
the standing topics of all official communications ; and in his 
last message, in December, 1836, the late president was more 
than usually emphatic upon the great success of his attempts 
to improve the currency, and the happy results of the experi- 
ment upon the important business of exchange. 



THE ADMINISTRATION IN TROUBLE. 313 

" But a reverse was at hand. The ripening glories of the 
experiment were soon to meet a dreadful blighting, hi the 
early part of May last, these banks all stopped payment. This 
event, of course, produced great distress in the country, and it 
produced also singular enibarrassmeut to the administration. 
The present administration was then only two months old ; 
but it had already become formally pledged to maintain the 
policy of that which had gone before it. The president had 
avowed his purpose of treading in the footsteps of his prede- 
cessor. Here, then, was the difficulty. Here was a political 
knot, to be either untied or cuL The experiment had failed, 
and failed, as it was thought, so utterly and hopelessly, that it 
could not be tried again. 

" What, then, was to be done 1 Committed against a bank 
of the United States in the strongest manner, and the substi- 
tute, from wMch so much was expected, having disappointed all 
hopes, what was the administration to do ? Two distinct classes 
of duties had been performed, in times past, by the bank of the 
United Stiites ; one more immediately to the government, the 
other to the community. The fii'st was the safe-keeping and 
the transfer, when required, of the public moneys ; the other, 
the suppTyuig of a sound and convenient paper currency, of 
equal credit all over the country, and everywhere equivalent to 
specie, and the giving of most important facilities to the opera- 
tions of exchange. These objects were highly important, and 
their perfect accomplishment by the 'experiment' had been 
promised from the first. The state banks, it was declared, 
could perform all these duties, and should perform them. But 
the 'experiment' came to a dishonored end in the early part 
of last May. The deposit banks, with the others, stopped pay 
ment. They could not render back the deposits ; and so far 
from being able to furnish a general currency, or to assist ex 
changes, (purposes, indeed, which they never had fulfilled with 
any success,) their paper became immediately depreciated, even 



314 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

in its local circulation. What course, then, was the adminis- 
tration now to adopt ? Why, sii', it is plain that it had but one 
alternative. It must either return to the former practice of the 
government, take the currency into its own hands, and main- 
tain it, as well as provide for the safe-keeping of the public 
money by some institution of its own ; or else, adopting some 
new mode of merely keeping the public money, it must aban- 
don all further care over currency and exchange. One of these 
courses became inevitable. The admmistration had no other 
choice. The state banks could be no longer tried, with the 
opinion ^A'hich the administration now entertained of them ; 
and how else could anything be done to maintain the cur- 
rency 1 In no way, but by the establishment of a national 
institution. 

" There was no escape from this dilemma. One course was, 
to go back to that which the party had so much condemned ; 
the other, to give up the whole duty, and leave the cuiTenfly 
to its fate. Between these two, the administration found itself 
absolutely obliged to decide ; and it has decided, and decided 
boldly. It has decided to surrender the duty, and abandon the 
constitution. That decision is before us, in the message, and 
in the measures now under consideration. The choice has been 
made ; and that choice, in my opinion, raises a question of the 
utmost importance to the people of this country, both for the 
present and all future time. That question is, Whether con- 
gress has, or ought to have, any duty to perform, in relation 
to the currency of the country, beyond the mere regulation of 
the gold and silver?'' 

This speech of Mr. Webster was not only very able ; but 
it produced a profound impression on the senate, and on the 
country. He maintained, in opposition to the message of the 
president, that it was incumbent on congress, besides keeping 
and disbursing the public money, to provide for a sound and 
safe currency for the people ; and such was the weight of his 



THE DOMESTIC SLAVE-TRADE. 315 

several arguments and illustrations, in support of his proposi- 
tion, that the recommendation of the president failed to be- 
come a law. Tlie first step, therefore, of the new administra- 
tion was a foilure. 

One of the fii-st topics that engaged the attention of Mr. 
Webster, at the regular session of congress of 1837-8, was 
that of slavery in the District of Columbia. On the 27th of 
December, 1837, a number of resolutions were read to the 
senate by Mr. Calhoun on this subject, the fifth of which was 
expressed in the following language: "Resolved, That the 
intermeddling of any state, or states, or their citizens, to abol- 
ish slavery in this district, or any of the teiTitories, on the 
ground, or under the pretext, that it is immoral or shiful, or 
the passage of any act or measure of congress with that view, 
would be a dii-ect and dangerous attack on the institutions of 
all the slaveholding states." The resolutions had been quite 
generally discussed, when, on the 10th of January, 1838, Mr. 
Clay offered a substitute for Mr. Calhoun's fifth resolution, 
which was couched in the following terms : " Resolved, That 
the interference, by the citizens of any of the states, with the 
view to the abolition of slavery in this district, is endangering 
the rights and security of the people of this district ; and that 
any act or measure of congress, designed to abolish slavery in 
this district, would be a violation of the faith implied in the 
cessions by the states of Vii^inia and Maryland, a just cause 
of alarm to the people of the slaveholding states, and have a 
direct and inevitable tendency to disturb and endanger the 
Union." Mr. Clay supported his substitute by a speech, which 
was followed by a brief one from Mr. Webster. He had be- 
fore, on the 16th of March, 1830, on presenting several peti- 
tions praying for the abolition of the domestic slave-trade 
within the district, expressed his views in relation to the power 
of congi-ess over slavery in the District of Columbia in a very 
plain and emphatic manner : " I have often," he then said, 

VOL. I. N 



S16 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

" expressed the opinion, that over slavery, as it exists in the 
states, this government has no control whatever. It is entirely 
and exclusively a state concern. And while it is clear that con- 
gress has no direct power over the subject, it is our duty to 
take care that the authority of this government is not brought 
to bear upon it by any indirect interference whatever. It must 
be left to the states, to the course of things, and to those causes 
over which this government has no control. All this, m my 
opinion, is in the clear line of our duty. On the other hand, 
believing that congress has constitutional power over slavery, and 
the trade in slaves, within the district, I think petitions on those 
subjects, respectfully presented, ought to be respectfully re- 
ceived, and respectfully considered." 

These had always been Mr. Webster's opinions on the sub- 
ject. They had been the opinions of the country and of the 
government. So early as 1809, on the 9th of January, the 
house of representatives had resolved, " that the committee on 
the District of Columbia be instructed to take into considera- 
tion the laws within the district in respect to slavery ; that they 
inquire into the slave-trade as it exists in, and is carried on 
through, the district ; and that they report to the house such 
amendments to the existing laws as shall seem to them to be 
just." The same body, at the same time, resolved, " that the 
committee be further instructed to inquire into the expediency of 
providing by law for the gradual abolition of slavery within the 
district, in such manner that the interest of no individual shall 
be injured thereby." In the month of March, 1816, the sub- 
ject had been again introduced by Mr. Randolph, of Virginia, 
when, at his motion, it was resolved, " that a committee be ap- 
pointed to inquire into the existence of an inhuman and illegal 
traffic in slaves carried on m and through the District of Co- 
lumbia, and to report whether any, and what, measures are ne- 
cessary for putting a stop to the same." 

The steps thus early taken, which had so clearly recognized 



SLAVERY IN THE DISTRICT. 317 

the power of congress over slvavery in the district, were well 
known to Mr. Webster ; and on these, as well as on the grants 
of cession by which the territory was given to the United States, 
he based an argument in favor of the constitutional power of 
congress over this subject, and which has never been and never 
can be answered. In return for his efforts in the cause of free- 
dom, he was taunted by Mr. King, of Alabama, with having 
made himself the head of the abolition party ; but this did not 
daunt Mr. Webster, or turn him from his integrity, or his 
purpose. He went directly forward, defended the rights of the 
petitioners, maintained the exclusive power of congress to legis- 
late on all subjects touching the District of Columbia, slavery 
as well as others, and spurned the sneers of southern senators ; 
and he thus continued to maintain his ground, till the subject 
was again brought forward by Mr. Calhoun, and modified by 
Mr. Clay, at the time now under consideration. His opinion, 
as held at this time, is best conveyed in his own language. "I 
cannot concur," he says, speaking of Mi\ Clay's substitute, 
" in this resolution. I do not know any matter of fact, or any 
ground of argument, on which this affirmation of plighted faith 
can be sustained. I see nothing by which congress has tied up 
its hands, either directly or indirectly, so as to put its clear con- 
stitutional power beyond the exercise of its own discretion. I 
have carefully examined the acts of cession by the states, the 
act of congress, the proceedings and history of the times, and I 
find nothuig to lead me to doubt that it was the intention of 
all parties to leave this, like other subjects belonging to legis- 
lation for the ceded territory, entirely to the discretion and 
wisdom of congress." He goes on to estal^lish this opinion by 
a most conclusive argument, and then brings the opposite view 
hito disfavor by successfully applying to it the reductio ad ab- 
surdum : " If the assertion contained in this resolution be 
true," he says, " a very strange result, as it seems to me, must 
follow. The resolution affirms that the faith of congress is 



318 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

pledged, indefinitely. It makes no limitation of time or cir- 
cumstance. If this be so, then it is an obligation that binds us 
forever, as much as if it were one of the prohibitions of the con- 
stitution itself And at all times hereafter, even if, in the 
course of their history, availing themselves of events, or chang- 
ing their views of policy, the states themselves should make 
provision for the emancipation of their slaves, the existing state 
of things could not be changed, nevertheless, in this district. 
It does really seem to me, that, if this resolution, in its 
terms, be true, though slavery in every other part of the world 
be abolished, yet in the metropolis of this great republic it is 
established in perpetuity. This appears to me to be the result 
of the doctrine of plighted faith, as stated in the resolution." 

Mr. Buchanan replied to Mr. Webster ; and Mr. Webster 
rejoined, maintaining with still greater foi'ce of expression his 
original position ; but it was not till he rose to reply to Mr. 
Clay, who, after Mr, Buchanan, had commented with some se- 
verity upon Mr. Webster, that the great orator gave complete- 
ness to his argument. Thus called out, there that argument 
now stands, the ablest ever delivered on the subject ; and every 
man, who has since seen fit to misunderstand Mr. Webster, on 
the subject of slavery, is bound to read it, and ponder it well, 
before he allows himself to ascribe to Mr. Webster his position 
in relation to this question. 

It would be impossible to follow out in detail all that Mr. 
Webster said and did, during the remainder of Mr. Van Bu 
ren's administration, on this and other important subjects. He 
was still chiefly engaged, as were the senate and the country, 
on topics connected with the currency. The administration 
of Mr. Van Buren, indeed, may be regarded in liistory as an 
unsuccessful attempt to relieve itself, and the country, of the 
financial evils brought upon it by the preceding administration; 
and in every effort made to better the condition of the national 
finances, Mr. Webster took, on behalf of the opposition, the 



SPEECH ON THE SUB-TREASURT. 319 

leading part. On the 17th of January, 1838, he spoke at 
some lengtli on the affairs of the Commonweakh Bank of Mas- 
sachusetts, one of the deposit banks, whose bills had become 
greatly depreciated; on the 28th of January, 1838, he ad- 
dressed the senate in favor of the right of preemption to actual 
settlers on the public lands ; and on the 31st of January, 1838, 
he delivered his speech on the sub-treasury system, as a sys- 
tem, putting it to the severest test it had ever met with in elo- 
quence or argument. But it was not till the 12th of March, 
1838, that he made his most elaborate, celebrated, and able 
speech on this subject. It was undoubtedly the ablest ever 
made, upon the subject of the regulation of the cuiTency, in or 
out of congress. It abounds with facts, illustrations, arguments, 
repartees, figures of speech of the most striking character, and 
every tiling, in matter and manner, in form and ornament, that 
could possibly be pressed into the service of his main object. 
That object was the defeat of the sub-treasury scheme, and a 
thorough exposition of the entire policy, m all its magnitude 
and mischief, of the current and preceding administrations. No 
person can obtain an adequate idea of the speech without a pe- 
rusal of it ; but there are passages in it, which, whether read 
in connection or sepanitely, will never cease to be admired. 
As a specimen of the orator's powei's of ridicule, when he 
wished to indulge in it, his laughable reference to tlie over- 
vaunted independence of General Jackson, wUl never fail to 
furnish to the hterary world both instniction and amusement : 
" The present chief magistrate of the country," he says, " was 
a member of this body in 1828. He and the honorable mem- 
ber from Carolina were, at that time, exerting their united 
forces to the utmost, in order to bring about General Jackson's 
election. Did they work thus zealously together for the same 
ultimate end and purpose? Or did they mean merely to 
cliange the government, and then each to look out for himself? 
Mr. Van Buren voted for the tariff bill of that year, commordy 



320 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

called the ' bill of abominations ' ; but, very luckily, and in ex- 
tremely good season, instructions for that vote happened to 
come from Albany ! The vote, therefore, could 'be given, and 
the member giving it could not possibly thereby give offense 
to any gentleman of the state-rights party, who acknowledge 
the duty of obeying instructions. 

" Sir, I will not do gentlemen injustice. Those who belonged 
to tariff states, as they are called, and who supported General 
Jackson for the presidency, did not intend thereby to overthrow 
the protective policy. They only meant to make General 
Jackson president, and to come into power along with him. 
As to ultimate objects, each had his own. All could agree, 
however, in the first step. It was difficult, certainly, to give 
a plausible appearance to a political union among gentlemen 
who differed so widely on the great and leading question of the 
times, the question of the protective policy. But this difficulty 
was overcome by the oracular declaration that General Jackson 
was in favor of a '■judicious tariff! ' Here, sir, was ample 
roona and verge enough. Who would object to a judicious 
tariff'? Tariff men and anti-tariff men, state-rights men and 
consolidationists, those who had been called prodigals, and those 
who had been called radicals, all thronged and flocked together 
here, and, with all their difference in regard to ultimate objects, 
agreed to make common cause till they should get into 
power ! 

" The ghosts, sir, which are fabled to cross the Styx, what- 
ever different hopes or purposes they may have beyond it, still 
unite in the present wish to get over, and therefore all hurry 
and huddle into the leaky and shattered craft of Charon, the 
ferryman. And this motley throng of politicians, sir, with as 
much difference of final object, and as little care for each other, 
made a boat of ' Judicious Tariff; ' and all rushed and scram- 
bled into it, until they filled it, near to sinking. The authority 
of tlie master was able, howevei", to keep them peaceable and 



MR. WEBSTER S HUMOR. 321 

in order for the time, for they had the virtue of submission ; 
and, though with occasional dangers of upsetting, he succeeded 
in pushing them, all over with his long setting-pole : 

Ipse ratem conto subigit I ' " 

In all of Mr. Webster's works, there is scarcely a more forcible 
illustration of his power of thi-owing contempt upon his antag- 
onists ; and, when all the facts of the case ar^ remembered, 
and the passage carefully collated with the facts, there is 
scarcely a better example, perhaps, in the English language. 

The peroration of that speech, on the other hand, though it 
commences with a ludicrous allusion, closes in a bold, manly, 
sublime and impressive manner. Alluding to Mr. Calhoun, 
and to his doctrine of state-rights, he says : " Finally, the non- 
orable member declares that he shall now march off under the 
banner of state-rights ! March off fi'om whom ? March off 
from what 1 We have been contending for great principles. 
We have been stiniggling to maintain the liberty and to restore 
the prosperity of- the country ; we have made these struggles 
here, in the national councils, with the old flag, the true Amer 
ican flag, the eagle, and the stars and stripes, waving over the 
chamber in which we sit. He now tells us, however, that he 
marches oflT under the state-rights banner ! 

" Let him go. I remain. I am where I ever have been, and 
where I ever mean to be. Here, standing on the platform of 
the general constitution, a platform broad enough and firm 
enough to uphold every interest of the whole country, I shall still 
be found. Intrusted with some part in the administration of 
that constitution, I intend to act in its spirit, and in the spirit of 
those who fi-amed it. Yes, sir, I would act as if our fathers, 
who framed it for us, and who bequeathed it to us, were looking 
on me ; as if I could see their venerable forms bending down 
to behold us, from the abodes above. I would act, too, as if 
the eye of posterity was gazing on me. 



322 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

" Standing thus, as in the full gaze of our ancestors and our 
posterity, having received this uiheritance from the former, to 
be ti'ansmitted to the latter, and feeling that, if I am born for 
any good, in my day and generation, it is for the good of the 
whole country, no local policy or local feeling, no temporary 
impulse, shall mduce me to yield my foothold on the constitu- 
tion of the Union. I move off under no banner not known to 
the whole Amjerican people, and to their constitution and laws. 
No, sir ; these walls, these columns, 

'shall fly 
From their Arm base as soou as 1 1 ' 

" I came into public life, sir, in the service of the United 
States. On that broad altar, my earliest, and all my public 
vows, have been made. I propose to serve no other master. 
So far as depends on any agency of mme, they shall continue 
united states ; united in interest and in affection ; united ui 
everything in regard to which the constitution has decreed their 
union ; united in war, for the common defense, the common 
renown, and the common glory ; and united, compacted, knit 
firmly together, in peace, for the common prosperity and hap- 
piness of ourselves and our children." 

It is reported by Mr. Everett, that, " not long after the 
publication of this speech, the present Lord Overstone, then 
Mr. S. Jones Lloyd, one of the highest authorities upon finan- 
cial subjects in England, was examined upon the subject of 
banks and currency before a committee of the house of com- 
mons. He produced a copy of the speech of Mr. Webster 
before the committee, and pronounced it one of the ablest and 
most satisfactory discussions of these subjects wliich he had 
seen. In writing afterwards to Mr. Webster, he spoke of him 
as a master who had instructed him on these subjects," The 
truth is, that, tliough not a practical banker, and though he had 
never been in any pecuniary business for a day in his life, he 



DEBATE WITH CALHOUN. 823 

was capable of instructing the most experienced fiinancier in the 
elements and principles of his own profession. But his instruc- 
tions were not entirely popular at home. There was a large 
class of his fellow-citizens, who, though all combined could not 
match him in knoAvledge of these subjects, deemed themselves 
above the advice of him who instructed all other men. The 
American who came nearest to him, in knowledge, in experi- 
ence, in wisdom upon these topics, was Mr. Calhoun ; and yet 
that gentleman, in general so candid and so able, was trammeled 
upon this subject by his political relations, and by an unfortu- 
nate inconsistency which had occurred in his opinions between 
the earlier and later periods of his life. Mr. Calhoun, in fact, 
was the only gentleman in the senate capable of taking up the 
argument, with any prospect of tolerable success, against Mr. 
Webster. He did take it up ; and, after replying, as well as 
he could, to the facts and the logic introduced by Mr. Webster, 
he sought to cast odium upon his antagonist by accusing him, 
or hinting that he might accuse him, if time permitted, of hav- 
ing maintained no great amount of consistency as a statesman. 
Had he time to do so, he said, he might say something about 
Mr. W^ebster's first and subsequent course in relation to the 
late war. This insinuation, made toward the close of Mr. 
Calhoun's reply, brought Mr. Webster immediately to his feet. 
After answering the arguments of his opponent, he met tliis in- 
sinuation in a manner peculiar to himself, in a way foi'ever to 
silence the tongue of slander on that subject, and after a fash- 
ion, one would think, to bring blushes of regret, if no other 
blushes, on Mr. Calhoun's cheek : " But, sir, befoi'e attempting 
that, he, [Mr. Calhoun] has something else to say. He had 
prepared, it seems, to draw comparisons himself. lie had in- 
tended to say something if time had allowed, upon our respect- 
ive opinions and conduct in regard to the war. If time had 
allowed ! Sir, time does allow, time must allow. A general 
remark of that kind ought not to be, cannot be, left to pro- 
voL. I. N* 21 



324 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

duce its effect, when that effect is obviously intended to be un- 
favorable. Why did the gentleman allude to my votes or my 
opinions respecting the war at all, unless he had something to 
say 1 Does he wish to leave an undefined impression that 
something was done, or something said, by me, not now capa- 
ble of defense or justification 1 something not reconcilable with 
true patriotism 1 He means that, or nothuig. And now, sir, 
let him bring the matter forth ; let him. take the responsibility 
of the accusation ; let him state his facts. I am here to an- 
swer ; I am here, this day, to answer. Now is the time, and 
now the hour. I think we read, sir, that one of the good spirits 
would not bring against the arch-enemy of mankind a railing 
accusation ; and what is railing but general reproach, an impu- 
tation without fact, time, or circumstance 1 Sir, I call for par- 
ticulars. The gentleman knows my whole conduct well ; in- 
deed, the journals show it all, from the moment I came into 
congress till the peace. If I have done, then, sir, anything un- 
patriotic, anything which, as far as love to country goes, will 
not bear comparison with his or any man's conduct, let it now 
be stated. Give me the fact, the time, the manner. He speaks 
of the war ; that which we call the late war, though it is now 
twenty-five years since it terminated. He would leave an im- 
pression that I opposed it. How 1 I was not in congress 
when war was declared, nor in public life anywhere. I was 
pursuing my profession, keeping company with judges and 
jurors, and plaintiffs and defendants. If I had been m con- 
gress, and had enjoyed the benefit of hearing the honorable 
gentleman's speeches, for aught I can say, I might have con- 
curred with him. But I was not in public life. I never had 
been, for a single hour ; and was in no situation, therefore, to 
oppose or to support the declaration of war. I am speak- 
ing to the fact, sir ; and if the gentleman has any fact, let 
us know it. 

" Well, bir, I came into congress during the war. I found it 



DEBATE WITH CALHOUN CONTINUED. 325 

wnged, and raging. And what did I do here to oppose it ? 
Look to the journals. Let the honorable gentleman tax his 
memory. Bring up anything, if there be any tiling to bring 
up, not showing error of opinion, but showing want of loyalty 
or fidelity to the country. I did not agree to all that was pro- 
posed, nor did the honorable member. I did not approve of 
every measure, nor did he. The war had been preceded by 
the restrictive system and the embargo. As a private indi- 
vidual, I certainly did not think well of these measures. It ap- 
peared to me that the embargo annoyed ourselves as much 
as our enemies, while it destroyed the busmess and cramped 
the spirits of the people. In this opinion, I may have been 
right or wrong, but the gentleman was lumself of the same 
opinion. He told us the other day, as a proof of his inde- 
pendence of party on great questions, that he differed with his 
friends on the subject of the embargo. He was decidedly and 
unalterably opposed to it. It furnishes, in his judgment, 
therefore, no imputation either on my patriotism, or on the 
soundness of my political opinions, that I was opposed to it 
also. I mean opposed m opinion ; for I was not in congress, 
and had nothing to do with the act creating the embargo. And 
as to opposition to measures for carrying on the war, after I 
came mto congress, I again say, let the gentleman specify ; let 
him lay his finger on anything calling for an answer, and he 
shall have an snswer. 

" Mr. President, you were yourself in the house duiing a con- 
siderable part of this time. The honorable gentleman may 
make a witness of you. He may make a witness of any 
body else. He may be his own witness. Give us but some 
fact, some charge, something capable in itself either of being 
proved or disproved. Prove anything, state anything, not 
consistent with honorable and patriotic conduct, and I am 
ready to answer it. Sir, I am glad this subject has been alluded 
to in a manner which justifies me in taking public notice of itj 



326 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

because I am well aware that, for ten years past, infinite pains 
has been taken to find something, in the range of these topics, 
which might create prejudice against me in the country. The 
journals have all been pored over, and the reports ransacked, 
and scraps of paragraphs and half-sentences have been collected, 
fraudulently put together, and then made to flare out as if there 
had been some discoveiy. But all this tailed. The next re- 
sort was to supposed correspondence. My letters were sought 
for, to learn if, in the confidence of private friendship, I had ever 
said anything which an enemy could make use of With this 
view, the vicinity of my former residence has been searched, 
as with a lighted candle. New Hampshire has been explored 
firom the mouth of the Merrimack to the Wliite Hills. In one 
instance, a gentleman had left the state, gone five hundred miles 
off, and died. His papers were examined ; a letter was found, 
and, I have understood, it was brought to Washington ; a con- 
clave was held to consider it, and the result was, that, if there 
was nothing else against Mr. Webster, the matter had better 
be let alone. Sir, I hope to make everybody of that opinion 
who brings against me a charge of want of patriotism. Errors 
of opinion can be found, doubtless, on many subjects ; but as 
conduct flows from the feelings which animate the heart, I know 
that no act of my life has had its origin m the want of ardent 
love of country." 

Notwithstanding the warmth of this rejoinder, and the warmth 
of the entire debate between the two great champions of the 
senate, of the north and of the south, at this time, as at all 
other times, there was never for a moment, probably, any want 
of mutual regard and sincere personal esteem between them. 
Each always spoke of the other as the most formidable of his 
opponents among all the politicians and statesmen of the coun- 
try ; Mr. Webster always admired Mr. Calhoun for his bold- 
ness and ability in avowing and maintaining his oj^inions ; and 
Mr. Calhoun, it is well known, declared on liis death-bed, after 



PERSONAL RELATIONS WITH CALHOUN. 327 

giniig utterance to other high compliments, that, " of all the 
public men of the day, there was no one, whose political course 
had been more strongly marked by a strict regard to truth and 
honor than Mr. Webster's." Indeed, such had been the hon- 
esty, the singleness of purpose, as well as the masterly ability 
of Mr. Webster's political career, from the first, that he 
had been constantly rising, up to the very time now under con- 
sideration, in the honorable esteem, not only of his political 
friends, but of his jx)litical opponents. Setting aside his opin- 
ions, in wliich there will always be more or less difference 
among men of the greatest emmence, he was now acknowl- 
edged, on all hands, as the first of American statesmen, and the 
pride of the x^merican republic. On nearly every subject, 
which had not been mcorporated into the creeds of the parties, 
his opinion was about of the same force as a law, to a gi'eat 
majority of-iiis comitrymen. The whole comitry followed him 
with regard, admiration, and eulogiums. Not a line could fall 
fi-om his pen, not a word could drop fi'om his lips, that was not 
caught and received as worthy of repetition and record. When- 
ever he met his fellow-citizens, on any public occasion, he was 
thi'onged by a multitude far greater than could be called to- 
gether, or had ever been called together, by any man ever upon 
this continent. His audiences, when no one else was expected to 
speak, have been estimated, on several occasions, to range fi'ora 
one to two hundi'ed thousand people. Li fact, had he taken it 
into liis head to see how a small, quiet, ordinary assembly 
would appeal-, out among the people, it would not have been 
possible fur liim, for the twenty years preceding this period of 
his life, to have succeeded in the undertflking. Wherever he 
came, there the masses of the population would rush together ; 
and, so great was the desire to see him, that anywhere out of 
Boston and Washington, where he was most familiar, it was al- 
most as impossible for him to enjoy the ordinary rights and im 
munities of a private citizen. When he wished to walk through 



328 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the streets of any of our larger cities, he often found himself 
blockaded by the greeting multitudes that followed and op- 
posed him ; and he was compelled, when he wished to make 
any husbandry of his time, to go over the shortest distances in 
his carriage. His fame, too, was now fully established in other 
countries. He was known about as well in Europe as on this 
continent ; and, in a rapid and brief trip across the Atlantic, 
made in the spring and summer of 1839, he had occasion to 
witness, perhaps very much to his own surprise, the length and 
breadth of his foreign popularity. In England, Scotland, be- 
laud and France, which were the countries visited, the common 
people seemed to know him ; they followed him, as he was fol- 
lowed at home, in vast multitudes ; and the highest of the 
nobility, forgetting their titles and their ancestral pride, thought 
it no dishonor to pay their court to so great a man as Mr. 
Webster. " No traveler from this country," says Mr. Everett, 
speaking of this visit, "has probably ever been received with 
equal attention in the highest quarters in England. Courtesies 
usually paid only to ambassadors and foreign ministers, were 
extended to him. His table was covered with invitations to the 
seats of the nobility and gentry ; and his company was eagerly 
souo-ht at the entertainments which took place while he was in the 
country." He was present, by invitation, at the first triennial 
celebration of the Eoyal Agricultural Society of England, at 
Oxford, where he made an address to the farmers of England, 
in the shade of the great English university ; and, in making 
reply to a toast offered him from the head of the tables, by 
Earl Spencer, the president of the society, surrounded by many 
of the nobility of the kingdom, he seemed to be as much self- 
possessed, as much at home, as if he had been speaking to his 
neighbors and friends in Boston. Attempting, more than once, 
to take his seat, after he had occupied more time than had been 
employed by the other speakers, he was forced to go forward 
with a speecli, instead of a few remarks, by the cheers, plaudits 



TRIP TO ENGLAND. 329 

and vociferous demands from every part of the assemblage ; 
and when he sat down, at the conclusion of his extempore ad- 
dress of about thirty minutes, he had said enough to con\'ince 
every man present, and that entire England, which, in less than 
three days, had read and admired the speech, that there was no 
illusion, no fiction, no exaggeration in the American and Euro- 
pean fame of the great lawyer, statesman, and orator of liis age 
and country. 



CHAPTEK X. 

FIRST TERM AS SECRETARY OF STATE. 

The fote of Mr. Van Buren's administration was sealed a 
long time before its termination. It was doomed, in fact, be- 
fore it had commenced. Burdened by the consequences of the 
financial experiment of his predecessor, which Mr. Van Buren 
had in words and in fact assumed, and promising, in his first 
message, to follow in the footsteps of that predecessor, he 
found it impossible to carry on the government with any great 
success, because there was real suffering, and heart-felt com- 
plaining, in all parts of the republic. In directing the eyes of 
the people to the true cause of all their sufferings, and in ma- 
kmg them generally believe it to be the cause, Mr. Webster 
had been the leading agent ; he had gone into the canvass of 
1840, the most enthusiastic one of our whole history, with great 
zeal ; and the consequence was, at least the result was, the tri- 
umphant election of General Harrison. 

No sooner was it certain that the election had thus resulted, 
than the president elect addressed Mr. Webster, and offered 
him his choice in the new cabinet, though the president de- 
sired him to take the treasury department. Tliis preference 
was founded on the fact, now universally confessed, that Mr. 
Webster was by far the ablest financier in the country ; and, 
as the currency was in a most deplorable condition, requiring 
the highest constructive abilities to restore it to its former 
state of soundness, it was natural enough to look to such a 



DIFFICULTIES WITH ENGLAND. 331 

man for such a labor. But this was not, upon the whole, the 
preference of IMr. Webster. Though a great work was to be 
done in tliis department, a work of high moment to the inter- 
nal prosperity of the country, he saw very clearly, from the 
history of the preceding forty or fifty years, that a greater work 
was to be performed for the external relations of the govern- 
ment, which were in a very critical condition. Our relations 
with England, in particular, were exceedingly sensitive and 
unpromising. War with England had been foretold by many 
of the most sagacious statesmen of both countries. Some of 
our own statesmen, or politicians, had been for years lookino- 
with hope, if not with eftbrt, toward the opening of a rupture. 
There were not wanting men of the highest position in Great 
Britain, who began to tliink it time to strike a blow against 
us, and do something to humble the pretensions, and break 
the example, of the great republic. Many causes of irritation 
were existing, which had been growing more and more irrita- 
ting for a quarter of a centiu-y, between the two nations. The 
boundary line, in fact, always a question of great danger, if 
left to be a question, had not been settled between the United 
States and the Canadas. The north-eastern, north-western, and 
much of the intervening portions of the boundary line, had 
never been determined. Along the entu-e border, from New 
Bi-unswick to the Pacific ocean, there was a great extent of dis- 
puted territory, on some portions of which, claimed sturdily 
by Great Britain, our general government had built public 
works ; and on large tracts, east and west, an American popu- 
lation had settled down, supposing the soil to be American 
while it was in fact disputed between the two countries. 

In addition to this great question of boundary, there was the 
question of the African slave-trade, which, though formally de- 
nounced by both governments as piracy, had created disturb- 
ances of a serious nature, in consequence of the peculiar laws 
of Great Britam in relation to slavery and freedom, M'liich she 



832 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

had put in force over slaves which had been, by stress of 
weather or other forcible causes, carried within her territorial 
limits. Slaves, even accompanied by their owners, had been 
thus landed by accident in some ports of the British West 
Indies ; and the local authorities, applying their local law of 
freedom to such slaves, and setting them at liberty from their 
masters, had given great offense to a large portion of our citi- 
zens, and had really committed an express indignity to the law 
of nation^. 

At an evil time, also, there had occurred on the American 
border, in the destruction of the steamboat Caroline, by British 
troops, a case of the most exciting character, which had roused 
the jealousy and anger of both governments. One of the pei*- 
petrators of this act, on coming, afterward, within the limits of 
the state of New York, had been arrested on a charge of mur- 
der, and bound over for trial ; and England, on hearmg of the 
critical situation of that gentleman, Alexander McLeod, had 
demanded, not of New York, of course, but of the general gov- 
ernment, the immediate release of the prisoner, while it was 
impossible for the general government, according to our system 
of confederation, to interfere, in any way whatever, in t]i2- matter. 

Many other causes existed, of a very delicate character, to 
disturb the peaceful relations of the two countries ; and Mr. 
Webster, therefore, knowing fully that the internal prosperity 
of a commercial community depends at last on the nature and 
condition of its external relations, chose to accept the office of 
secretary of state, in place of that of secretary of the treasury, 
as offered by General Harrison. General Harrison was not 
at all displeased with the selection ; and the country has now, 
as it ever will have, the best of reasons to congratulate itself 
on the choice made, and its memorable results. If Mr. Web- 
ster has ever done a work worthy of universal commendation, 
or likely to be remembered over the civilized world longer than 
another work, it is that performed by him, at this period ol 



COMMENCEMENT OF NEGOTIATIONS. 333 

his life, "while in this position ; for it was in this that he settled 
forever the most difficult and delicate questions that had ever 
existed between the two leading empires of modern history. 

Mr. Webster had scarcely taken his seat in the chair of 
state, when he received a note from Mr. Fox, British minister 
at Washington, dated March 12th, 1841, demanding the re- 
lease of McLeod by the authorities of New York. In his re- 
ply, Mr. Webster reminds Mr. Fox, that, according to the laws 
of the United States, as well as those of England, the execu- 
tive has no right to interfere with a judicial process before 
trial, and that, if any interference were possible, it would not 
be possible to the president, but to the governor of New York, 
as every state, though a part of the general confederacy, is an 
independent sovereignty, over whose mimicipal officers the gen- 
eral government has no control. Mr. Fox, in making the de- 
mand, informed Mr. Webster that the act with which Mr. 
McLeod had been charged, was an act performed under au- 
thority of the British government, and the British government 
assumed the entire responsibility of the act ; and, therefore, 
Mr. Webster addressed a letter to the attorney general of the 
United States, giving him official knowledge of this fact, and 
directing him to make it known to McLeod's coimsel, that it 
might be plead before the court, and thus secure the release 
of the prisoner in a constitutional and lawful manner. The 
New York court, however, would not receive this plea in justU 
fication, but held McLeod personally responsible. He was not 
released, on demand of the British government, but tried on 
the indictment, in spite of the demand, as any other criminal 
would have been. This gave great offence to the government 
of Great Britain ; and had not the trial terminated in the ac- 
quittal of the prisoner, it is probable that war between the two 
countries would have been the sequel. 

The feeling, however, was not all on the side of England, 
f he people of the United States, and particularly the people 



334 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

living along the Canadian border, were indignant at the des- 
truction of the Caroline, a vessel purporting to run between 
Buffalo and Sehlosser, but really engaged in supplying men and 
ammunition to the Canadian rebels, who, joined by many Amer- 
ican citizens of a low character,' had undertaken to subvert the 
government of Great Britain m the Canadas. The case was 
not properly understood by the citizens of the United States, 
generally. They supposed that the steamboat Caroline, en- 
gaged in a peaceful traffic, while lying at her own wharf at 
Sehlosser, had been boarded by a detachment of Canadian sol- 
diers, set on fire, and then dravm out into the current to float 
over the Niagara. They were told, too, that American citizens 
had been murdered in the encounter ; that, when set on fire and 
hauled into the stream, the Caroline had not only dead bodies, 
but living persons, on her decks and in her cabins, all of whom 
were left to make that awfiil plunge from which humanity 
shrinks with hoiTor ; and that the British government now as- 
sumed the whole proceeding as its own act, for which it held 
itself, however, as it was an act of justifiable self-defense, irre- 
sponsible. 

All these proceedings, the destruction of the Caroline, the 
murder of an American citizen, for it turned out that only one 
was killed, and the violation of our territory had taken j^lace in 
the year 1837, the first year of Mr. Van Buren's administra- 
tion ; but, instead of being settled by that administration, they 
had been only aggi'avated by the arrest of McLeod, by a 
<3rooked diplomatic correspondence, and by that natural pro- 
cess of aggravation which grows out of letting difficulties re- 
main as matters of crimination and recrimination, instead of 
being promptly met at their first appearance. The first thing 
Mr. Webster had to do, therefore, was to explain to the Brit- 
ish government the actual condition of affiiirs, and, as that gov- 
ernment had assumed the responsibility of the whole case, to 
procux'e Mr. McLeod's release, that he might hold Great Brit- 



ACQUITTAL OP m'lEOD. . 835 

am to the responsibility it had avowed. Tlis letter to Mr. Fox 
is as able a performance of the kind as had ever issued from 
the department of state ; and though the court of New York 
did not act upon the law as stated by Mr, Webster, nor fol- 
low his advice, its decision has been condemned, not only by 
such men as Chancellor Kent, Chief Justice Spencer, and Judge 
Tallmadge, of New York, but by nearly every lawyer and ju- 
rist of eminence in the country. 

Tliis cause of irritation being removed, however, by the ac- 
quittal of the prisoner, Mr. Webster set himself to work to 
settle the other prominent difficulties that existed between the 
United States and England. He wished, if possible, to lay the 
foundations of a perpetual peace between the two great com- 
mercial countries of the world. The world, he thought, de- 
manded such a peace. Not only the trade and business and 
financial prosperity of the two countries demanded it ; but it 
was equally demanded by the cause of civilization, of religion, 
of liberty, of general intelligence, of universal philanthropy. 
Having obtained the consent of Mr. Tyler, now president of 
the United States in consequence of the lamented and untimely 
death of General Harrison, he addressed a note to IMr. Fox in 
the summer of 1841, in wliich he distinctly stated that the gov- 
ernment of the United States was prepared to enter upon ne- 
gotiations for the settlement of all questions pending between 
the governments, hi the September following, the ministry 
of Sir Robert Peel havmg come into power, the proposition 
was received with favor ; and in December, Lord Aberdeen, 
secretary of state for foreign alTairs, informed Mr. Everett, 
minister of the United States at the court of London, that the 
government of England had determined to send Lord Ashbur- 
ton, a particular friend of Mr. Webster, as a special minister 
to this country, with full powers to settle the boundary ques- 
tion, and several other questions yet in controversy between 
the two governments. 



336 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Lord Ashburton arrived in the United States on the 4th of 
April, 1842, when Mr. Webster commenced his great task, 
by addressing notes to the governors of Maine and Massachu- 
setts, asking a joint commission, on the part of the two states 
interested in the north-eastern boundary, to act definitively and 
in concert with himself and the British special minister. Both 
states immediately complied with the request of Mr. Webster ; 
and their commissioners reached Washington in the early part 
of June, when the work of settlement was at once begun. 
That the commissioners might not be detained longer than ne- 
cessary, the first topic introduced was the north-eastern bound- 
ary question, the peculiar intricacies and difficulties of which 
have been clearly and succinctly stated by Mr. Webster. In 
his speech to tlie senate, delivered on the 6th and 7th of April, 
1846, he says : " In the treaty of peace of September, 1783, 
the northern and eastern, or perhaps, more properly speaking, 
the north-eastern boundary of the United States, is described 
as follows : ' From the north-west angle of Nova Scotia, namely, 
that angle which is formed by a line drawn due north from the 
source of St. Croix river to the highlands ; along the said 
higlilands, which divide those rivers that empty themselves into 
the river St. Lawrence from those which fall into the Atlantic 
ocean, to the north-westernmost head of Connecticut river ; 
thence, along the middle of that river, to the forty-fifth degree 
of north latitude ; from thence by a line due west on said lati- 
tude, until it strikes the river Iroquois, or Cateraquy. East, 
by a line to be drawn along the middle of the river St. CroLx, 
from its mouth in the bay of Eundy, to its source, and fi'om 
its source directly north to the aforesaid highlands. 

"Such is the description of the north-eastern boundary of the 
United States, according to the treaty of peace of 1783. And 
it is quite remarkable that so many embarrassing questions 
should have arisen from these few lines, and have been matters 
of controversy for more than half a cgntury. 



NORTH-EASTERN BOUNDARY. 337 

" The first question disputed was, ' Which of the several riv- 
ers running into the bay of Fundy, is the St. Croix, mentioned 
in the treaty ?' It is singular that this should be matter of 
dispute, but so it was. England insisted that the true St. 
Croix was one river. Tlie United States insisted that it was 
another. 

" The second controverted question was, ' Where is the north- 
west angle of Nova Scotia to be found ? ' 

"The third, 'What and where are the highlands, along which 
the line is to run, from the north-west angle of Nova Scotia 
to the north-westernmost head of Connecticut river V 

"The fourth, 'Of the several streams, which, flowing to 
gether, make up the Connecticut river, which is that stream 
which ought to be regarded as its north- westernmost head?' 

" The fifth was, 'Are the rivers which discharge their waters 
uito the bay of Fundy, rivers " which fall into the Atlantic 
ocean," in the sense of the terras used in the treaty 1 ' 

" The fifth article of the treaty between the United States 
and Great Britain, of the 19th of November, 1794, after reci- 
ting, that doubt had 'arisen what river was ti'uly intended under 
the name of the river St. Croix,' proceeds to provide for the de- 
cision of that question, by creating three commissioners, one to 
be appointed by each government, and these two to choose a 
third ; or, if they could not agree, then each to make his nomi- 
nation, and decide the choice by lot. The two commissioners 
agreed on a third ; the three executed the duty assigned them, 
decided what river was the true St. Croix, ti-aced it to its source, 
and there established a monument. So much, then, on the 
eastern line was settled ; and all the other questions remained 
wholly unsettled down to the year 1842." 

Mr. Webster then goes on to show wlaat had been attempted, 
by the successive administrations of our government, durin*' 
the present century. On the 12th of May, 1803, a convention 
was ratified by Lord Hawksbury and Rufus King, providing 



S38 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

for the appointment of three commissioners, in the manner be- 
fore mentioned, who should have power " to run and mark the 
line from the monument, at the source of the St. Croix, to that 
north-west angle of Nova Scotia ; and also to determine the 
north-westernmost head of Connecticut river ; and then to run 
and mark the boundary line between the north-west angle of 
Nova Scotia and the said north-westernmost head of Connec- 
ticut river ; and the decision and proceedings of the said com- 
missioners were to be final and conclusive. 

" No objection," continues Mr. Webster, " was made by 
either government to this agi'eement and stipulation ; but an 
incident arose to prevent the final ratification of the treaty ; 
and it arose in this way. Its fifth article contained an agree- 
ment between the parties, settling the line of boundary between 
them beyond the Lake of the Woods. In coming to this agree- 
ment, they proceeded, exclusively, on the grounds of their re- 
spective rights imder the treaty of 1783; but it so happened, 
that, twelve days before the convention was signed in London, 
France, by a treaty signed in Paris, had ceded Louisiana to the 
United States. This cession was at once regarded as giving to 
the United States new rights, or new limits, in this part of the con- 
tinent. The senate, therefore, struck this fifth article out of 
the convention ; and, as England did not incline to agree to this 
alteration, the whole convention fell." 

The whole subject rested till revived, in 1814, by the fifth 
article of the treaty of Ghent, which provided for the appoint- 
ment of two commissioners, who should examine and run the 
line, from the source of the St. Croix to the St. Lawrence, ac- 
cording to the treaty of 1783 ; but the commissioners, if they 
could not agi'ee, were to state their points of difference, which 
were afterwards to be submitted, by the two governments, to 
the arbitration of some friendly power. The commissioners 
did not agree ; and the matter was finally committed to the 
king of the Netherlands, who, in 1831, made a decision to 



FORMER NEGOTIATIONS. 339 

which neither country would consent. General Jackson was 
now president ; and the president took it upon him, as a spe- 
cial task, to brhig this great question to a final settlement. 
Nothing, however, vvas accomplished during his entire adminis- 
tration of the government ; and in his last annual message he 
admitted, that, after toiling for five years upon the subject, he 
had not proceeded so far as to know what the views of England 
were in relation to the settlement : " I regret to say," says 
the president, " that many questions of an interesting nature, 
at issue with other powers, are yet unadjusted ; among the 
most prominent of these is that of the north-eastern boundary. 
With an undiminished confidence in the sincere desire of his 
Britanic majesty's government to adjust that question, I am 
not yet in possession of the precise grounds upon which it pro- 
poses a satisfactory adjustment." 

Such was the condition of the question on the elevation of 
Mr. Van Buren to the presidency ; and, in his first annual mes- 
sage, he expresses his deep regret, which, no doubt, bordered 
upon mortification, that, for a period of about half a century, 
nothing had been done by our government in the settlement 
of this difficulty : " Of pending questions," says the message, 
" the most important is that which exists with the government 
of Great Britain in respect to our north-eastern boundary. It 
is with unfeigned regret, that the people of the United States 
must look back upon the abortive efforts made by the execu- 
tive for a period of moi'e than half a century, to determine what 
no nation should suffer long to remain in dispute, the true line 
which di\ides its possessions from those of other powers." 
When publlsliing this opinion, Mr. Van Buren no doubt felt 
confidence, that he should have the merit of settling this great 
question ; but his efforts, on this matter, were as abortive as 
the efforts of his predecessors. He left; it, in fact, in a worsa 
condition than that in which he found it : " And now, sir," 
said Mr. Webster, in the speech before mentioned, and in ref- 
voL. I. O 22 



340 WliBSTER AND HIS MASTKR-PIECES. 

erence to the tacit and premature assurance but ultimate fail- 
ure of Mr. Van Buren, " what did he accomplish ? What pro- 
gress did he malvc? What step forward did he take, in the 
whole course of his administration 1 Seeing the full impor- 
tance of the subject, addressing himself to it, and not doubting 
the just disposition of England, I ask again, what did he do 1 
What advance did he make ? Sir, not one step in his whole 
four years. Or rather, if he made any advance at all, it was 
an advance backward ; for, undoubtedly, he left the question 
in a much worse condition than he found it, not only on ac- 
count of the disturbances and outbreaks which had taken place 
on the border, for the want of an adjustment, and which dis- 
turbances themselves had raised new and difficult questions, 
but on account of the intricacies and complexities, and perplex- 
ities, in which the correspondence had become involved. The 
subject was entangled in meshes, which rendered it far more 
difficult to proceed with the question, than if it had been fresh 
and unembarrassed." 

This closing allegation of Mr. Webster is entirely correct. Bor- 
der ti'oublesof a very serious nature had sprung up between Maine 
and the authorities of New Brunswick. The American settle- 
ments on the Madawaska had been threatened with hostilities ; 
a general panic had thus spread among them ; and the gov- 
ernor of Maine, Mr. Fairfield, had ordered a large body of 
militia to the disputed territory for the defence of the soil and 
the protection of the inhabitants. The whole country was ex- 
cited upon the subject ; and when Mr. Webster, Lord Ashbur- 
ton and the joint commissioners began their negotiations, they 
had every reason to believe, indeed there could be no doubt, 
that a failure now would result in immediate war between the 
two counti-ies. 

Happily for both, however, the wisdom and friendship of the 
two ministers, aided by the intelligence and patriotism of the 
commissioners, prevailed over every disturbing mfluence. The 



SETTLEMEXT OF THE BOUNDARY. 341 

negotiations were carried on chiefly by conversations between 
Lord Ashburton and ]\Ir. Webster. Having agreed upon the 
boundary Ime, after an amount of investigation which no one 
not experienced in such troubles can at all appreciate, it was 
proposed in a letter from the American secretary to the joint 
commissioners, and thus, mainly by the industry, ability and 
perseverance ofMr, Webster, the most fundamental and per- 
plexing difficulty that ever existed between the United States 
and a foreign government, which had baffled the skill of every 
successive cabinet since the foundation of the republic, which 
had threatened hostilities between the two countries for more 
than fifty years, and which was likely to bring us into an im- 
mediate outbreak and war with the British empire, was finally 
and forever put ' to rest. A treaty Avas concluded upon, by 
Lord Ashburton and Mr. Webster, which definitely and defin- 
itively fixed the boundary between the United States and the 
British possessions in North America, along the whole line, 
fi-om Nova Scotia to the St. Lawrence, thence up the chamiel 
of that river and through the gi'eat chain of lakes to the porta- 
ges above the head waters of Lake Superior, and thence through 
untrodden and pathless forests, and over' and along vast moun- 
tain ranges, for a distance of about four thousand miles, a line 
long enough to divide the whole of Europe, to the base of the 
Rocky ^fountains. 

Notwithstanding the partisan objections, which were at one 
time raised against this settlement of the boundary, all of which 
were thoroughly answered by Mr. Webster in his speech of 
the 6th and 7th of April, 1846, any American, who will take 
the pains, or rather give himself the pleasure, of reading the 
treaty of Washington, by which this settlement was made, and 
all the documents pertaining to the subject, will not fail to see, 
that England gave up, and intended to give up, almost every 
disputed interest connected with this question, as an offset to 
jther interests, which she had more at heart, and which she 



342 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

made a prominent part of the negotiations. Those high and 
paramount interests were connected with the Afiican slave- 
trade. She did not call upon us, however, to imdertake or in- 
itiate any new policy in reference to this subject ; for she well 
knew that the United States had taken the lead of all other 
countries in declaring the slave-trade piracy, punishable as a 
crime of the gre<atest magnitude. What she desired was, that 
our government should accept of her co5peration in executing 
a common determination to suppress it ; that we should agree 
to unite with her in maintaining a sufficient force at sea, and 
particularly on the coast of Africa, to secure a speedy extinction 
of the traffic ; and that our government should consent, in or- 
der to carry out this grand design, to the visitation of merchant 
vessels sailing under our flag, for the pui'pose of putting a stop 
to the practice, common to the unholy trade, of sailing under 
false colors while prosecuting their nefarious business. 

Nothing, certamly, could have been proposed more conso- 
nant to the repeated legislation and solemn declarations of our 
government ; but, strange to say, from the time when our le- 
gislation was had upon the subject, there had been a singular 
reluctance, on the part of our several and successive cabinets, to 
enter into any very special stipulations of this nature. The 
history of the negotiations, wlueh have occurred between tliis 
coimtry and Great Britain, is very briefly and correctly stated 
by Mr. Everett : " The British government," says that gen- 
tleman, " for the praiseworthy purpose of j)uttmg a stop to the 
traffic in slaves, has at different times entered into conventions 
with several of the states of' Europe authorizing a mutual right 
of search of the trading vessels of each contractmg party by the 
armed cruisers of the other party. These treaties give no right 
to search the vessels of nations not parties to them. But if an 
armed ship of either party should search a vessel of a third 
power under a reasonable suspicion that she belonged to the 
other contracting party, and was pursuing the slave-trad'- '•a 



THE AFRICAN SLAVE-TRADE. 343 

contravention of the treaty, this act of power, performed by 
mistake, and with requisite moderation and circumspection in 
the manner, would not be just ground of offense. It would, 
however, authorize a reasonable expectation of indemnification 
on behalf of the private individuals who might suffer by the 
detention, as in other cases of injury inflicted on innocent per- 
sons by public functionaries acting A^ith good intentions, but at 
their peril. 

" The government of the United States, both in its executive 
and legislative branches, has at almost all times manifested an 
extreme repugnance to enter into conventions for a mutual right 
of search. It has not yielded to any other power in its aver- 
sion to the slave-ti'ade, which it was the first government to 
denounce as piracy. The reluctance in question grew princi- 
pally out of the injuries inflicted upon the American commerce, 
and still more out of the personal outrages in the impressment 
of American seamen, which took place durmg the wars of 
Napoleon, and incidentally to the belligerent right of search 
and the enforcement of the Orders in Council and the Berlin 
and Milan decrees. Besides a wholesale confiscation of Amer- 
ican property, hundreds of American seamen were impressed 
into the ships of war of Great Britain. So deeply had the pub- 
lic sensibility been wounded on both points, that any extension 
of the right of search by the consent of the United States was 
for a long time nearly hopeless. 

" But this feeling, strong and general as it was, yielded at 
last to the detestation of the slave-trade. Toward the close of 
the second administration of Mr. Monroe the executive had 
been induced, acting under the sanction of resolutions of the 
two houses of congi'ess, to agree to a convention with Great 
Britain for a mutual right of search of vessels suspected of be- 
intr encased in tlie traflic. This convention was negotiated in 
London ])y Mr. Rush on the part of the United States, Mr. 



344 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Canning being the British secretary of state for foreign 
affairs. 

" In defining the limits within which tliis right should be exer- 
cised, the coasts of America were included. The senate were 
of opinion that such a provision might be regarded as an ad- 
mission that the slave-trade was carried on between the coasts 
of Africa and the United States, contrary to the known fact, 
and to the reproach either of the will or power of the United 
States to enforce their laws, by which it was declared to be 
pu-acy. It also placed the whole coast of the Union under the 
surveillance of the cruisers of a foreign power. The senate 
accordmgly ratified the treaty, with an amendment exempting 
the coasts of the United States from the operation of the article. 
They also introduced other amendments of less importance. 

" On the return of the treaty to London thus amended, Mr. 
Canning gave way to a feelmg of dissatisfaction at the course 
pursued by the senate, not so much on account of any decided 
objection to the amendment in itself considered, as to the claim 
of the senate to introduce any change into a treaty negotiated 
according to instructions. Under the influence of this feeling, 
Mr. Cannmg refused to ratify the treaty as amended, and 
no fm-ther attempt was at that time made to renew the 
negotiation. 

" It will probably be admitted on all hands, at the present 
day, that Mr, Canning's scruple was without foundation. The 
treaty had been negotiated by this accomplished statesman, 
under the full knowledge that the constitution of the United 
States reserves this power to the senate. That it should be 
exercised was, therefore, no more matter of complaint, than that 
the treaty should be referred at all to the ratification of the 
senate. The course pursued by Mr. Canning was greatly to 
be regretted, as it postponed the amicable adjustment of this 
matter for eighteen years, not without risk of serious misunder- 
standing in the mterval. 



THE RIGHT OF SEARCH. 345 

" Attempts were made on the paa-t of England, during the 
ministry of Lord Melbourne, to renew the negotiation with the 
United States, but without success. Conventions between 
France and England, for a mutual right of search within cer- 
tain limits, were concluded m 1831 and 1833, under the min- 
istry of the Due de Broglie, without awakening the public sen- 
sibility in the former country. As these treaties multiplied, 
the activity of the English cruisers increased. After the treaty 
with Portugal, in 1838, the vessels of that country, which, with 
those of Spain, were most largely engaged in the traffic, began 
to assume the flag of the United States as a protection ; and m 
many cases, also, although the property of vessels and cargo 
had, by collusive transfers on the African coast, become Span- 
ish or Portuguese, the vessels had been built and fitted out m 
the United States, and too often, it may be feared, with Amer- 
ican capital. Vessels of this description were provided with 
two sets of papers, to be used as occasion might require. 

" Had nothing further been done by British cruisers than to 
board and search these vessels, whether before or after a trans- 
fer of this kind, no complaint would probably have been made 
by the government of the United States. But, as many Amer- 
ican vessels were engaged in lawful commerce on the coast of 
Africa, it fi-equently happened that they were boarded by Brit- 
ish cruisers, not always under the command of discreet officers. 
Some voyages were broken up, officers and men occasionally 
ill-treated, and vessels sent to the United States or Sierra 
Leone for adjudication. 

"In 1840 an agreement was made between the officers in 
command of the British and American squadrons respectively, 
sanctioning a reciprocal right of search on the coast of Afi-ica. 
It was a well-meant, but unauthorized step, and was promptly 
disavowed by the administration of Mr. Van Buren. Its op- 
eration, while it lasted, was but to mcrease the existing diffi- 
culty. Reports of the interruptions experienced by our com- 



346 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTEE-PIECES. 

merce in the African waters began greatly to multiply ; and 
there was a strong interest on the part of those surreptitiously 
engaged in the traffic to give them currency. A deep feelino- 
began to be manifested in the country; and the correspondence 
between the American minister in London and Lord Palmers- 
ton, ui the last days of the Melbourne ministry, was such as to 
show that the controversy had reached a critical point. Such 
was the state of the question when Mr. Webster entered the 
department of state." 

Mr. Everett was at this time in Europe, as minister to the 
coui't of London ; and, notwithstanding the lengthy quotation al- 
ready made from him, his testimony respecting the state of the 
question on the other side of the Atlantic is the best on record, and 
can hardly be substituted by anything that can now be written : 
" The controversy was transmitted," he says, in continuation 
of liis account, " to the new administrations on both sides of the 
water, but soon assumed a somewhat modified character. The 
quintuple treaty, as it was called, was concluded at London, on 
the 20th of December, 1841, by England, France, Austria, 
Prussia, and Russia ; and information of that feet, as we have 
seen above, was given by Lord Aberdeen to Mr. Everett the 
same day. A strong desire was intimated that the United 
States would join this association of the great powers, but no 
formal invitation for that purpose was addressed to them. But 
the recent occurrences on tlie coast of Africa, and the tone of 
the correspondence above alluded to, had mcreased the stand- 
ing repugnance of the United States to the recognition of a 
right of search in time of peace. 

" In the mean time, the same complaints, sometimes just, 
sometimes exaggerated, sometimes groundless, had reached 
France from the coast of Africa, and a strong feeling against 
the right of search was produced in that country. Themci- 
dents connected with the adjustment of the Syrian question, in 
1840, had greatly irritated the French ministry and people, and 



THE QUINTUPLE TREATY. 34") 

the present -was deemed a favorable moment for retaliation. 
On the assembling of the chambers, an amendment was moved 
by M. Lefebvre to the address in reply to the king's speech 
in the following terms : ' We have also the confidence, that, 
in granting its cx^ncnrrence to the suppression of a criminal 
traffic, your government will know how to preserve from every 
attack the interests of our commerce and the independence of 
our Hag.' This amendment was adopted by the unanimous 
vote of the chambers, 

"This was well understood to be a blow aimed at the quin- 
tuple treaty. It was the most formidable parliamentary check 
ever encountered by M. Guizot's administration. It excited 
profoimd sensation throughout Europe. It compelled the 
French ministry to make the painful sacrifice of a convention 
negotiated agreeably to instructions, and not differmg in prin- 
ciple fi-om those of 1831 and 1833, which were consequently 
liable to be uivolved m its fate. The ratification of the quin- 
tuple treaty was felt to be out of the question. Although it 
soon appeared that the king was determined to sustain M. 
Guizot, it was by no means apparent in what manner his 
administration was to be rescued from the present embar- 
rassment. 

" The public feelmg in France was considerably heightened 
by various documents which appeared at this juncture, in con- 
nection with the controversy between the United States and 
Great Britain. The president's message and its accompanying 
papers reached Europe about the period of the opening of the 
session. A very few days after the adoption of M. Lefebvre's 
amendment, a pamphlet, written by General Cass, was pub- 
lished in Paris, and, being soon after translated into French 
and widely circulated, contributed to strengthen the current of 
public feeling. A more elaborate essay was, in the course of 
the season, published by Mv. Wheaton, the minister of tlie 

VOL. I. O* 



348 WEBSTER AND HIS MA&TER-PIECES. 

United States at Berlin, in which the theory of a right of search 
in time of peace was vigorously assailed," 

Difficult and tangled as this question had become, however, the 
eighth article of the treaty of Wasliington settled it so completely 
and so easily, that, as in every similar case where a great discovery 
is made, the universal feeluig of the country and the world was 
a general sentiment of wonder that the discovery had never 
been made before : " The parties mutually stipulate," says 
the ai-ticle mentioned, "that each shall prepare, equip and 
maintain in service, on the coast of Africa, a sufficient and ade- 
quate squadron, or naval force of vessels, of suitable numbers 
and descriptions, to carry in all not less than eight guns, to en- 
force, separately and respectively, the laws, rights, and obliga- 
tions of each of the two countries, for the suppression of the 
slave-trade ; the said squadrons to be mdependent of each other, 
but the two governments stipulatmg, nevertheless, to give such 
orders to the officers commanding their respective forces, as 
shall enable them most effectually to act in concert and coope- 
ration, upon mutual consultations, as exigencies may arise, for 
the attamment of the true object of this article ; copies of all 
such orders to be communicated by each government to the 
other, respectively." 

The two countiies made an additional stipulation, in relation 
to other governments, with a desu-e still farther to act in con- 
cert m suppressing and forever rooting up this unrighteous trat 
fie ; and it was a stipulation, Avhich, while it promised to secure 
its object, entirely avoided the offensive claun, set up by Great 
Britam, of a right of search : " Whereas," says the nmth arti- 
cle of the treaty, " notwithstanding all efforts which may. be 
made on the coast of Afi-ica for suppressmg the slave-trade, 
the facilities for carrymg on that traffic and avoiduig the vigi- 
lance of cruisers by the fraudulent use of flags, and other means, 
are so great, and the temptations for pursumg it, while a mar- 
ket can be found for slaves, so sti-ong, as that the desired result 



EXTRADITION OF FUGITIVES. 349 

may be long delayed, unless all markets be shut against the 
pui'chase of African negroes, the parties to this treaty agree, 
that they will luiite in all becomuig representations and remon- 
strances with any and all powers within whose dominions such 
markets are allowed to exist ; and that they will urge upon all 
such powers the propriety and duty of closing such markets 
effectually, at once and forever." Thus, in a very simple and 
amicable manner, England was permitted <t,o obtain of us the 
quid pro quo for which she had yielded nearly everything in 
relation to the boundary ; and this very consideration, ua lieu 
of which so much was gained by us, was of vastly less value to 
the party seeking, than to the party granting it. 

By this treaty of Washington, therefore, so far as now ex- 
plained, the United States had obtained her main points in 
relation to the boundary, and Great Britain had secured the 
end aimed at by her in reference to the African slave-trade ; 
but there was a third question, in which both countries were 
about equally interested, though, at the moment, it was of 
greater immediate consequence to Great Britain. This was the 
question of the extradition of fugitives from justice. Each 
country had been, since the foundation of the reiDublic, an asy- 
lum for the criminals of the other ; and as both spoke the 
same language, enjoyed nearly the same laws, and furnished 
about the same general advantages to their citizens, a volun- 
tary change of residence from one to the other, the only price 
the worst of malefactors had to pay for security against all pun- 
ishment, was too easy to admit of the administration of thor- 
ough justice in either country. The Canadas were full of Amer- 
ican citizens, who, flying from just punishment, or escaping from 
the jurisdiction of our laws, had found a refuge among a kin- 
dred population, with whom, they could live as hai)pily as at 
home ; and the United States, on the other hand, had received 
thousands of British subjects, who had committed crimes of the 
deepest dye, but who had found it more agreeable and morp 



350 . WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIfiCES. 

easy to live and thrive among a people of their own blood on 
this side, than on the other side of the Atlantic. Sometloing, 
therefore, which should entirely relieve the two countries of 
this common evU, had been contemplated for half a century ; 
but the honor of achieving what had been so long desired, 
( was left for Mr. Webster. The tenth article of his treaty for- 
ever settled this subject. " It is agreed," says that document, 
" that the United States, and her Britannic majesty shall, upon 
mutual requisitions by them, or their ministers, officers, or au- 
thorities, respectively made, deliver up to justice all persons 
who, being charged with the crime of 'murder, or assault with 
intent to commit murder, or piracy, or arson, or robbery, or 
forgery, or the utterance of forged papers, committed within 
the jurisdiction of either, shall seek an asylum, or shall be 
found, within the temtories of the other : provided that this 
shall only be done upon such evidence of criminality, as, ac- 
cording to the laws of the place where the fugitive or person 
so charged shall be found, would justify his apprehension and 
commitment for trial, if the crime or offense had there been 
committed ; and the respective judges and other magistrates 
of the two governments shall have power, jurisdiction and au- 
thority, upon complaint made under oath, to issue a warrant 
for the apprehension of the fugitive or person so charged, that 
he may be brought before such judges or other magistrates, 
respectively, to the end that the evidence of criminality may 
be heard and considered ; and if, on such hearing, the evidence 
be deemed sufficient to sustain the charge, it shall be the duty 
of the examining judge or magistrate to certify the same to 
the proper executive authority, that a warrant may issue for 
the surrender of such fligitive. The expense of such appre- 
hension and delivery shall be borne by the party who makes 
the requisition, and receives the fugitive." 

In addition to the crimes here specified, England was anx- 
ious to insert that of treason, in order the more effectually to- 



BURNING OF THE CAROLINE. 351 

defend herself against the revolutionists of Ireland, and their 
co-laborers within her immediate limits ; but, had this been in- 
sisted on, it would have given a pretext to the southern senti- 
ment of this country, which was ready to break out into the 
form and force of a demand, of reclaiming fugitives from a 
state of slavery, who might take shelter under the banner of 
Great Britain. These two topics, therefore, were excluded from 
the ti'eaty, as likely, if inserted, to produce less good than evil ; 
and it was well known, too, to Lord Ashburton, that Mr. Web- 
ster would not have consented to any arrangements by which 
British subjects, any more than American citizens, should be 
returned to punishment for political opinions, or slaves, who 
had thus secured their independence, should be again remanded 
to a state of bondage. 

Tliese tliree were the leading questions claiming the atten- 
tion of the two illustrious diplomatists ; but there were others, 
incidental to their great design of settling the prominent dif- 
ferences between their governments, wliich were of no less mo- 
ment than those included in their treaty. The treaty did not 
allude to the case of McLeod, nor make any provision against 
the recurrence of such cases ; but a law was passed by con- 
gress, evidently by agreement, and at the particular suggestion 
of Mr. Webster, by which all persons charged with an act 
similar to his were to be held under the jurisdiction, not of 
any single state, but of the United States. 

The burning of the Caroline, within the limits of the United 
States, was also presented by Mr. Webster to Lord Ashbur- 
ton as a flagi'ant An'ong, which, though it had been passed over 
by the preceding administration, could no longer be overlooked ; 
Lord Ashburton was compelled to make an apology to our 
government, in the name of his own, which England is not ac- 
customed to make to the greatest powers on earth ; and Mr. 
Webster received the apology in a dignified and yet friendly 
manner, at once securmg respect to our national chai'acter and 



352 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

rights, without needlessly wounding the pride of that govern- 
ment, fi-om which the apology had come : " Understanding 
these principles alike," says the American secretary to the Brit- 
ish minister, " the difference between the two governments is 
only whether the faeU in th-^ case of the Caroline make out 
a case of such necessity for the purpose of self defence. See- 
ing that the transaction is not recent, having Imppened in the 
time of one of his predecessors ; seeing that your lordship, in 
the name of your government, solemnly declares that no slight 
or disrespect was intended to the sovereign authority of the 
United States ; seeing that it is acknowledged that, whether 
justifiable or not, there was yet a violation of the territory of 
the United States, and that you are instructed to say that your 
government considers that as a most serious occurrence ; see- 
ing, finally, that it is now admitted that an explanation and 
apology for this violation was due at the time ; the president 
is content to receive these acknowledgments and assurances in 
the conciliatory spirit which marks your lordship's letter, and 
will make tliis subject, as a complaint of violation of territory, 
the topic of no farther discussion between the two govern- 
ments." 

The doctrine of impressment, as asserted by Great Britain, 
which had been the leading cause in producing the late war 
between that country and the United States, Mr. Webster 
earnestly desired to bring into the negotiations between him 
and the British minister; but Lord Ashburton had received no 
instructions on that subject. Mr. Webster, however, would 
not let the occasion pass, without expressing to the represent- 
ative of England the American view of this practice of im- 
pressment ; and he accordingly addressed a letter to Lord Ash- 
burton, in which he discussed the whole matter with his char- 
acteristic ability, hideed, it is doubtful whether there is a 
state paper of greater ability m the language. In the first 
place, he gives a history of the subject in that style of brevity . 



DOCTRINE OF IMPRESSMENT. 358 

and point so peculiar to all his narratives : " We have had 
several conversations," he says, " on the subject of impress- 
ment ; but I do not understand that your lordship has instruc- 
tions from your government to negotiate upon it ; nor does the 
government of the United States see any utility in opening 
such negotiation, unless the British government is prepared to 
renounce the practice in all future wars. 

" No cause has produced, to so great an extent, and for so 
long a period, disturbing and irritating influences in the politi- 
cal relations of the United States and England, as the impress- 
ment of seamen by British cruisers from American merchant 
vessels. 

" From the commencement of tbe French revolution to the 
breaking out of the ^Yar betvreen the two countries, in 1812, 
hardly a year elapsed without loud complaint and earnest re- 
monstrance. A deep feeling of opposition to the right claimed, 
and to the practice exercised under it, and not unfrequently ex- 
ercised without the least regard to what justice and humanity 
would have dictated, even if the right itself had been admitted, 
took possession of the public mind of America ; and this feel- 
ing, it is well known, cooperated most powerflilly with other 
causes, to produce the state of hostilities which ensued. 

" At different periods, both before and since the M^ar, nego- 
tiations have taken place between the two governments, with 
the hope of finding some means of quieting these complaints. At 
some times, the effectual abolition of the practice has been re- 
quested and treated of; at other times, its temporary suspen- 
sion ; and at other times, again, the limitation of its exercise, 
and some security against its enormous abuses. 

" A common destiny has attended these efforts. They have 
all failed. The question stands at this moment where it stood 
fifty years ago. The nearest approach to a settlement was a 
convention proposed in 1803, and which had come to the point 
of signature, when it was broken off in consequence of the 



354 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

British government insisting that the narrow seas should be ex- 
pressly excepted out of the sphere over which the contemplated 
stipulation against impressment, should extend. The Ameri- 
can minister, Mr. King, regarded this exception as quite inad- 
missible, and chose rather to abandon the negotiation than to 
acquiesce in the doctrine which it proposed to establish." 

The claim, as set up by England, is then clearly stated : 
" England asserts the right of impressing British subjects, in 
time of war, out of neutral merchant-vessels, and of deciding, 
by her visiting officers who, among the crews of such merchant- 
vessels, are British subjects. She asserts this as a legal exer- 
cise of the prerogative of the crown, which prerogative is al- 
leged to be founded on the English law of the perpetual and 
indissoluble allegiance of the subject, and his obligation, under 
all circumstances, and for his wliole life, to render militaiy ser- 
vice to the crown whenever requu'ed." 

To this doctrine, the American secretary next applies a 
searching scrutiny, and a severe logic. He denies the English 
claim, openly and plainly, first, because it is extending the mu- 
nicipal laws of England beyond its own territorial limits, which 
is contrary to the universally acknowledged law of nations ; 
secondly, because the claim is based, not on any law generally 
established by other nations, as a j^art of their own municipal 
system, but on the municipal law of England only ; thirdly, 
because England, whose policy and practice it had been to en- 
courage emigration, could not, in consistency, after she had 
crowded or helped off her overplus of population, turn round 
and reclaim the persons thus given up, and particularly when 
they had been received, protected and supported, in whole or 
in part, by the country which had furnished them an asylum ; 
fourthly, because the claim asserts a right of searching the mer- 
chant-vessels of other countries, a claim which is in direct con- 
flict with the political sovereignty of the nations whose vessels 
are thus visited ; fifthly, because the practice is a serious det- 



CONCESSIONS OF GREAT BRITAIN. 355 

nmeut to commerce, by interposing an impediment to tlie effi- 
cient manning of commercial vessels ; and finally, because ex- 
perience has shoNvn, as all future experience must show, that 
any attempt to carry out this docti'ine, on the shipping of a neu- 
tral power, will only result, in every case, in bad feeling, in a 
sentiment of hostility, or in actual war : " In the early disputes 
betv.'cen the two governments," says the secretary, " on this so 
long contested topic, the distinguished person, [referring to Mr. 
Jefferson,] to whose hands were first intrusted the seals of this 
department, declared that ' the simplest rule will be, that the 
vessel being American shall be evidence that the seamen on 
board are such.' Tifty years' experience, the utter failure of 
many negotiations, and a careful reconsideration, now had, of 
the whole subject, at a moment when the jiassions are laid, and 
no present interest or emergency exists to bias the judgment, 
have fully convinced this government that this is not only the 
simplest and best, but the only rule, which can be adopted and 
observed, consistently with the rights and honor of the United 
States, and the security of their citizens. That rule announces, 
therefore, what will hereafter be the prmciple maintained by 
their government. In every regularly documented American 
merchant-vessel, the crew who navigate it will find their pro- 
tection in the flag which is over them." 

]Mr. Webster, in fact, took higher ground than Mr. Jeffer- 
son ; and Lord Ashburton, by no means turning a deaf ear to 
the representations and demands of the American secretary, as 
had been done to Mr. Jefferson, assures Mr. Webster that his 
communication should bo immediately transmitted to the Brit- 
ish government, where it would be sure to " receive from them 
that deliberate attention which its importance deserves ; " that 
*' no differences have or could have arisen of late years, with 
respect to impressment, because the practice has, since the 
peace, wholly ceased, and camiot, under existing laws and reg- 
ulations for manning her majesty's navy, be under the present 
VOL. I. 23 



356 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

circumstances, renewed ; " and that " it must be admitted that 
a serious practical question does arise, or, rather, has existed, 
from practices formerly attending the mode of manning the 
British navy in times of war." 

The British envoy goes even still farther with his conces- 
sions. " The very anomalous condition of the two countries," 
says he, "with relation to each other, creates a serious diffi- 
culty. Our people are not distinguishable ; and, owing to the 
peculiar habits of sailors, our vessels are very generally man- 
ned from a common stock. It is difficult, under these ch-cum- 
stances, to execute laws, which at times have been thought es- 
sential for the existence of the country, without risk of injury 
to others. The extent and importance of those injuries, how- 
ever, are so formidable, that it is admitted that some remedy 
should, if possible, be applied ; at all events, it must be fairly 
and honestly attempted. It is true, that dui-ing the continu- 
ance of peace, no practical grievance can arise ; but it is also 
true that it is for that reason the proper season for the calm 
and dehberate consideration of an important subject. I have 
much reason to hope, that a satisfactory arrangement respect- 
ing it may be made, so as to set at rest all apprehension and 
anxiety ; and I wUl only further repeat the assurance of the sin- 
cere disposition of my government favorably to consider all 
matters havuTg for their object the promoting and maintaining 
undisturbed kind and friendly feelings with the United States." 

Thus, the British minister at last, under the commanding in- 
fluence and resistless pressure of the great mind of his Ameri- 
can associate, virtually yields, even though not instructed by his 
government, the most fondly cherished and venerable maxim 
of the English fundamental law, to the support of which Eng- 
land had sacrificed blood and treasure, through a three-years 
war, and which she had maintained, at the cannon's mouth, since 
the origui of her naval supremacy, in every quarter of the 
globe. 



TREATY OE WASHINGTON. 357 

Sr.ch is a brief sketch of the topics, which came before the 
two illustrious diplomatists, and which constitute the substance 
of the celebrated treaty of Washington, and the accompanying 
correspondence. The treaty itself, the result of four months 
incessant and severe labor, Avas communicated to the senate, in 
a message written by Mr. "Webster in the name of Mr. Tyler, 
on the 11th of August, 1842 ; and, on motion of Mr. Rives, 
it was referred at once to the committee on foreign relations, 
who reported it back, without amendment, on the 15th of Au- 
gust. It was made the order of the day for the 17th ; and, on 
that and the tliree following days, it wasablydiscussedby some 
of the leading statesmen of the country. On the last day of 
the discussion, again on motion of Mr. Rives, it was ratified by 
the senate by a vote of thirty-nine to nine ; and the bills for 
carrrying it into effect, in the house and in the senate, were 
soon after passed, by majorities still more decisive of its popu- 
larity. In this way, the most difficult questions that had ever 
arisen, since the American revolution, to perplex the relations 
of the two great nations of modern history, were forever laid 
to rest ; and the peace of the two countries was established on 
a basis of mutual concession, a basis seldom acknowledged by 
Great Britain in her previous connections with us, which no- 
thing but the most urgent reasons, on the one or the other side, 
can at any future period disturb. 

The treaty of Washington gave general satisfaction, at the 
time of its ratification, in every portion of the Union. Kast 
and west, north and south, it was about equally popular. On 
the 30th of September, 1842, by invitation of the leading citi- 
zens of Boston, Mr. Webster met his fellow-citizens in a public 
manner, in Faneuil Hall ; and he there made a speech, in re- 
lation to such public matters as stood connected with his ad- 
ministration of the department of state under the presidency 
of General Harrison and Mr. Tyler. Mr. Jonathan Qiapman, 
then mayor of the city, presided, and made the speech intro- 



358 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

ducing Mr. Webster ; and, in the course of his remarks, he 
gave utterance to the feelings of the citizens of Massachusetts 
in relation to this period of the life of the distinguished guest, 
as well as to his general character as the long-tried and trusted 
representative of his adopted state : " It is to your eminent 
services, sir," said the mayor, after having spoken of him as 
the representative and senator from that city and state, " on 
this broader field which you have lately occupied, that we look 
this day with special pride and admiration. Sir, in simple but 
heartfelt language, we thank you for the honorable attitude in 
which, so far as your department has been concerned, you have 
placed your country before the world. Would to God that it 
stood as well in other respects. In the many emergencies in 
our foreign relations, which the two past years have presented, 
you have been faithful throughout to the true interests and 
honor of the country, and nowhere in its archives can abler, 
manlier, wiser, or more dignified papers be found, than those 
which bear your signature. 

" When the dark cloud lowered upon our neighboring fron- 
tier, when a great and fundamental law of nations had well- 
nigh yielded to popular passion, when a single step, only, in- 
tervened between us and a war that must have been disastrous 
as it would have found us in the wi'ong, it was your wise and 
energetic interference that dispelled the storm, by seeking to 
make us just, even under galling provocation. 

" When a gasconading upstart from a neighboring republic, 
so called, presumed to address to this government, a commu- 
nication worthy only of its owner, but which no one of his co- 
adjutors was bold enough to present in person, one firm and 
dignified look from our own secretary of state, a single sweep 
of his powerful arm, relieved the country from any further 
specimens of Mexican diplomacy. 

"And, crowning act of all, when, amidst the numerous and 
perplexing questions which had so long disturbed the har- 



POPULARITY OF THE TREATT. 359 

mony of two nations, whom God meant shouM always be 
friends, England sent forth her ambassador of compromise 
and peace, you met him like a man. Subtle diplomacy and 
political legerdemain, you threw to the winds ; and, taking only 
for your guides simple honesty, common sense and a christian 
spirit, behold, by their magic influence, there is not a cloud in 
the common heavens above us, but only the glad and cheering 
sunlight of friendship and peace. 

" We have already, sir, on this same spot, expressed our ap- 
probation of this treaty with England, while paying a merited 
tribute of respect to the distinguished representative of that 
country, who was associated with you in its adjustment. We 
repeat to you our satisfliction with the result, and with the 
magnanimous spirit by which it was accomplished. We may 
now add, as we might not then, that we know not the other 
individual, within the limits of the country, who could have so 
successfully achieved this happy event. 

" We are aware, sir, that this treaty is not yet completed, 
but that an important act [its ratification by England] is yet 
necessary for its accomplishment. We anticipate no such re- 
sult, and yet it may be that still farther work is necessary for 
the crowning of our hopes. You have brought skill and labor, 
aye, and self-sacrifice too, to this great work, we know. And 
whatever may befall the country, in this or any other matter, 
we are sure that you will be ready to sacrifice everything for 
her good, save honor. And, on that point, amidst the perplex- 
ities of these perplexing times, we shall be at ease ; for we 
know that he who has so nobly maintained his country's honor, 
may safely be trusted with his own." 

Similar sentiments prevailed throughout New-England, and 
throughout the country, at the time of the ratification of the 
treaty ; and they continued to prevail, in all parts of the Union, 
from that time forward. In the spring of 1847, on occasion 
of his visit to some of the southern states, Mr. Webster was 



360 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

publicly received at Richmond, Charleston, Columbia, Augusta 
and Savannah ; and in each of these places, he was compli- 
mented in the highest terms, for his distinguished services to 
the country, as the head of Mr. Tyler's cabinet. At Charles- 
ton, even, the chief city of South Carolina, whose peculiar poli- 
tics Mr. Webster had been called upon, as a public man, to 
oppose through every period of his life, he was applauded for 
an act, or series of acts, for which his enemies could find no- 
thing due liim but applause : " As representatives of our fellow- 
citizens of Charleston," said the Hon. Frankhn H. Elmore, 
chairman of the committee of arrangements, at the ceremony 
of the reception, " we wait upon you to tender their welcome 
and good wishes. Having heard that it was your intention to 
pass through their city, m a tour through the southern states, 
undertaken to obtain, by personal observation, a better knowl- 
edge of their people, pursuits and interests, the citizens of 
Charleston, laying aside all differences of political opinion, m a 
common desire to further your wishes, and to render your visit 
agreeable, assembled and unanimously delegated to us the 
pleasing duty of expressing to you the great satisfaction of thus 
meeting you in their homes. Although they well know there 
are essential differences of opinion between a great majority of 
them and yourself, and the great commonwealth of which you 
are the trusted and distinguished representative m the councils 
of the nation, yet, on this occasion, they remember, with far 
more pleasure, that, whilst at the head of the state department 
you watched with fidelity over other sections of the Union ; 
that the south was not neglected, but her interests and her 
rights found in you an able and imj^artial vindicator ; that 
you made, amongst other public services, great and successful 
efforts to preserve our relations in peace and harmony with the 
most free and powerful nation of the old world ; and that, 
wlule you served the general cause of humanity and civiliza- 



DIFFICDLTIES OF THE SECRETARTSHIP. 361 

tion in so doing, you at the same time sustained the honor 
and promoted the best interests of our common country." 

At Savannah he was addressed, in behalf of the citizens of 
Georgia, by Mr. Justice Wayne, who, after acknowledging the 
unrivaled talents and extraordinary services of Mr. Webster, 
dwelt with emphasis on the wisdom and success of his secreta- 
ryship : " Nor must we permit this occasion to pass without 
noticing your administration of the state department. We of 
the south, as a very large portion of your fellow-citizens did 
everywhere, recognize, in what was then done, practical ability 
remarkably suited to the time of action, with a comprehensive 
support of every American interest and right, domestic and 
foreign." 

Such eulogiums, at the time now under consideration, met 
Mr. Webster everywhere. His career as a diplomatist, though 
brief, was pure, patriotic, brilliant. It was entirely and even 
wonderfully successful. It was really a wonder, among intel- 
ligent men, and always will remain a wonder, how such nego- 
tiations could be carried through, when everything, at home at 
least, seemed to be against him. The difficulties of his posi- 
tion, as secretary of state, have been quite correctly stated by 
the Hon. John C. Spencer : " When he first assumed the du- 
ties of the department of state, war was lowering on our hori- 
zon like a black cloud, ready to launch its thunderbolts around 
us. The alarming state of our foreign relations at tliat time is 
shown in the extraordinary fact, that the appropriation bills 
passed by congress, at the close of Mr. Van Buren's adminis- 
tration, contained an unusual provision, authorizing the presi- 
dent to transfer them to military purposes. In a few months 
after our guest took the matter in hand " — Mr. Webster was, 
at this time, partaking of a public dinner given him by the 
young men of Albany — " the celebrated treaty with Lord Ash- 
burton was concluded, by which the irritating question of 
boundary was settled, every difficulty then known or anticipa- 



362 WEBSTEE AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ted was adjusted, among others, the detestable claim to search 
our vessels for British seamen was renounced.'' 

Mr. Spencer, though accurate enough for the ordinary pur- 
poses of a speech at a public festival, speaks rather too strongly, 
toward the conclusion of this paragraph, for the severe demands 
of history. Every difficulty then known or anticipated was not 
adjusted. Some of them were not even brought into the ne- 
gotiations. The boundary line itself was traced only' to the 
base of the Rocky Mountains ; and the whole of what was af- 
terwards known as the Oregon question, was left where Mr. 
Webster foimd it. Still, the compliment, as a whole, was 
richly merited. The time had not come for the settlement of 
the Oregon boundary. Lord Ashburton was not prepared to 
yield what America demanded ; and Mr. Webster was not to 
be satisfied with less than what was undeniably due his coun- 
try. The same considerations apply equally to some other 
matters of minor importance not included in the treaty. The 
treaty, as it stands, however, contained much more than the 
most sanguine had expected ; and when all the circumstances 
surrounding Mr. Webster, at the time he was at worlc in its 
negotiation, were taken into view, it was doubted, by many of 
the most experienced of our statesmen, whether anything at all 
would be accomplished. 

" In connection with this treaty," continues Mr. Spencer, and 
with the most unqualified historical accuracy, " I take this oc 
casion, the first that has presented itself, to relate some facts 
which are not generally known. The then administratioti had 
no strength in congress. It could command no support for any 
of its measures. This was an obstacle sufficiently formidable 
in itself; but Mr. Webster had to deal with a feeble and way 
ward president, an unfriendly senate, a hostile house of repre- 
sentatives, and an accomplished British diplomatist. I speak 
of what I personally know, when I say, that never was a nego- 
tiation surrounded with greater or more perplexing difficulties. 



ATTACKS ON MR. WEBSTER. 36S 

He had at least three parties to negotiate -with instead of one, 
to say nothing of ^Massachusetts and Maine, who had to be con- 
sulted in relation to a boundary that affected their territory." 

To these facts it should be added, that the consent of all the 
commissionei-s was naade, by Mame and INIassachusetts, the 
condition of their acceptance of whatever might be the result 
of the negotiation. The secretary, therefore, after obtaining the 
consent of his profound and skillful co-diplomatist, which was 
no easy thing where English rights were in dispute, had to ob- 
tain the unanimous approval of six gentlemen, who were ap- 
pointed expressly to guard the interests of two independent 
states, and then procure a constitutional vote in a senate known 
to hold the administi'ation, of wliich he was chief minister, in 
contempt. " You know the result," says Mr, Spencer to the 
young men of Albany. '* Glorious as it was to our country, 
how glorious was it also to the pilot, that guided the ship 
through such difficulties ! " 

With whatever of glory, however, this portion of Mr. Web- 
ster's career as a statesman is justly covered, there have not 
been wanting, there were not wanting at the moment of his 
great triumph, a class of men who could not see so much honor 
awarded to a single individual. Aristides was banish.ed by the 
populace of Athens, because his rivals could not bear to hear 
him everywhere called Aristides the Just. Too much reputa- 
tion, it is sad to say, sometimes weakens a man's position. It 
was nearly so with Mr. Webster at this period of his life. At 
home, in Massachusetts, m Boston, he was covertly assailed by 
a convention of whigs, who had met to make nominations for 
the leading offices of the state. W^ithout particularly mention- 
ing Mr. Webster, who was still a member of Mr. Tyler's cab- 
inet, and who remained in office about two years after all his 
associates had indignantly resigned their places, this convention 
published to the world a formal vote of separation, in behalf 
of the whig party of the commonwealth, from the president of 

VOL. I. P 






S64 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the United States. It was to meet the moral force of this dec 
laration that the meeting before mentioned, held in Faneuil 
Hall on the 30th of September, 1842, was called ; and it was at 
that meeting that Mr. Webster made his first defence of himself, 
and of his secretaryship, before the country and the world. 
His speech was exceedingly able ; and, while it constituted a 
triumphant vindication of his administration, it was a most with- 
ering rebuke to the members of the convention, and to all who 
had sympathized with it in its attack on him : " There were 
many persons, in September, 1841," said the orator, " who J 

found great fault with my remaining in the president's cabinet. ^j^ 

You know, gentlemen, that twenty years of honest, and not al- 
together undistinguished service in the whig cause, did not save 
me from an outpouring of wrath, which seldom proceeds from 
whig pens and whig tongues against anybody. I am, gentle- 
men, a little hard to coax, but as to being driven, that is out 
of the question. I chose to trust my omi judgment, and think- 
ing I was at a post where I was in the service of the countiy, 
and could do it good, I staid there. And I leave it to you to- 
day to say, I leave it to my country to say, whether the coun- 
try would have been better off if I had left also. I have no at- 
tachment to office. I have tasted of its sweets, but I have tasted 
of its bitterness. I am content with what I have achieved ; I 
am more ready to rest satisfied with what is gained, than to 
run the risk of doubtful efforts for new acquisition. 

" I suppose I ought to pause here. I ought, perhaps, to 
allude to nothing more, and I will not allude to anything fur- 
ther than it may be supposed to concern myself, directly or by 
implication. Gentlemen, and ISIr. Mayor, a most respectable 
convention of whig delegates met in this place a few days since, 
and passed very important resolutions. There is no set of 
gentlemen m the commonwealth, so flir as I know them, who 
have more of my respect and regard. They are whigs, but 
they are no better whigs than I am. They have served the 



REPLY TO THEIR ATTACKS. 365 

country in the whig ranks ; so hav'e I, quite as long as most of 
them, though perhaps with less ability and success, Tlieir res- 
olutions on political subjects, as representing the whigs of the 
state, are entitled to respect, so far as they were authorized to 
express opinion on those subjects, and no further. They were 
sent hither, as I supposed, to agree upon candidates for the 
offices of governor and lieutenant-governor for the support of 
the whigs of [Massachusetts ; and if they had any authority to 
speak in the name of the whigs of Massachusetts to any other 
purport or intent, I have not been informed of it. I feel very 
little disturbed by any of those proceedings, of whatever na- 
ture ; but some of them appear to me to have been inconsid- 
erate and hasty, and their point and bearing can hardly be mis- 
taken. I notice among others, a declaration made, in behalf 
of all the whigs of this commonwealth, of 'a full and final sep- 
aration from the pi'esident of the United States.' If those gen- 
tlemen saw fit to express their own sentiments to that extent, 
there was no objection. Whigs speak their sentiments every- 
where ; but whether they may assume a privilege to speak for 
others on a point on which those others have not given them 
authority, is another question. I am a whig, I always have 
been a whig, and I always will be one ; and if there are any 
who would turn me out of the pale of that communion, let them 
see who will get out first. I am a Massachusetts whig, a Fan- 
euil Hall whig, having breathed this air for five-and-twenty 
years, and meaning to breathe it, as long as my life is spared. 
I am ready to submit to all decisions of whig conventions on 
subjects on wliich they are authorized to make decisions ; I 
know tliat great party good and great public good can only be 
so obtained. But it is quite another question whether a set of 
gentlemen, however respectable they may be as individuals, 
shall have the power to bind me on matters which I have not 
agreed to submit to their decision at all. 

"'A full and final separation' is declared between tho whig 



366 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

party of Massachusetts and the president. That is the text : 
it requires a commentary. What does it mean 1 The presi- 
dent of the United States has three years of his term of office 
yet unexpired. Does this declaration mean, then, that during 
those three years all the measures of his administration are to 
be opposed by the great body of the whig party of jMassachu- 
setts, whether they are right or wrong 1 There are great pub- 
lic interests which require his attention. If the president of the 
United States should attempt, by negotiation, or by earnest 
and serious application to congress, to make some change in the 
present arrangements, sucli as should be of service to those in- 
terests of navijzation wliich are concerned in the colonial trade, 
are the whigs of Massachusetts to give him neither aid nor suc- 
cor ] If the president of the United States shall direct the 
proper department to review the whole commercial policy of 
the United States, in respect of reciprocity in the indirect trade, 
to which so much of our tonnage is now sacrificed, if the amend- 
ment of this policy shall be undertaken by him, is there such a 
separation between him and the whigs of Massachusetts as shall 
lead them and their representatives to oppose it 1 Do you 
know (there are gentlemen now here who do know) that a 
large proportion, I rather think more than one half, of the cai-- 
rying trade between the empire of Brazil and the United States 
is enjoyed by tonnage from the north of Europe, m consequence 
of this ill-considered principle with regard to reciprocity 1 You 
might just as well admit them into the coasting trade. By 
this arrangement, we take the bread out of our children's 
mouths and give it to strangers. I appeal to you, sir, (turning 
to Captain Benjamin Eich, who sat by him,) is not this true ? 
(Mr. Eich at once replied. True !) Is every measure of this 
sort, for the relief of such abuses, to be rejected ? Are we to 
suffer ourselves to remain inactive under every grievance of 
this kind until tliese tlii'ee years shall expire, and through as 



SECOND REPLV. 367 

many more as shall pass until Providence sliall bless us with 
more ijower of doing good than we ha\e now ? 

" Again, there are now m this state persons employed under 
government, allowed to be pretty good whigs, still holding then- 
offices ; collectors, district-attorneys, postmasters, marshals. 
What is to become of them in this separation 1 Which side 
are they to fall ? Are they to resign ? or is this resolution to 
be held up to government as an invitation or a provocation to 
turn them out ? Our distinguished fellow-citizen, who, with so 
much credit to himself and to his country, represents our gov- 
ernment in England, — is he expected to come home, on this 
separation, and yield his place to his predecessor, or to some- 
body else 1 And in regard to the individual who addresses 
you, — what do his brother whigs mean to do with him"? 
Where do they mean to place me ? Generally, when a di- 
vorce takes place, the parties divide their children. I am anx 
ious to know where, in the case of this divorce, I shall fall. 
This declaration announces a full and final separation between 
the whigs of Massachusetts and the president. If I choose 
to remain in the president's councils, do these gentlemen 
mean to say that I cease to be a INIassachusetts whig? I 
am quite ready to put that question to the people of JNIassa- 
chusetts." 

Subsequently, in his address to the wliig convention at An- 
dover, on the 9th of November, 1843, Mr. Webster was again 
called upon, as he thought, to defend himself in regard to his 
remaining in Mr. Tyler's cabinet, because the committee invi- 
tkig him to be present had alluded to his course in this respect, 
though with approbation : " I am aware that there are many 
persons in the country," said jNIr. Webster, " havhig feelings 
not unfriendly toward me, personally, and entertainmg all proper 
respect for my public character, who yet think I ought to have 
left the cabinet with my colleagues. I do not complain of any 



368 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

fair exercise of opinion in this respect ; and if, by such persona 
as I have referred to, explanation be desired of any thing in the 
past, or any thing in my present opinions, it will be readily 
given. On the other hand, those who deal only in coarse vi- 
tuperation, and satisfy their sense of candor and justice simply 
by the repetition of the charge of dereliction of duty, and infi- 
delity to whig principles, are not entitled to the respect of an 
answer from me. The burning propensity to censure and re- 
proach by which such persons seem to be actuated, would 
probably be somewhat rebuked, if they knew by whose advice 
and with whose approbation, I resolved on staying in the cabmet. 

" Gentlemen, I could not but be sensible that great respon- 
sibility attached to the course which I adopted. A most unfor- 
tunate difference had broken out between the president and 
the whig members of congress. Much exasperation had been 
produced, and the whole country was in a very inflamed state. 
No man of sense can suppose that, without strong motives, 
I should wish to differ in conduct from those with whom 1 had 
long acted; and as for those persons whose charity leads 
them to seek for such motive in the hope of personal advan- 
tage, neither their candor nor their sagacity deserves anything 
but contempt. I admit gentlemen, that, if a very strong de- 
sire to be instrumental and useful in accomplishing a settle- 
ment of our difficulties with England, which had then risen to 
an alarming height, and appeared to be approaching a crisis — 
if this be a personal motive, then I confess myself to have 
been influenced by a personal motive. The imputation of 
any other personal motive, tlie chai'ge of seeking any selfish 
advantage, I repel with utter scorn." 

At a still later period, however, Mr. Webster was com- 
pelled, not to defend himself for having stayed where, alone, 
he could be instrumental in carrying out the great object which 
had caused him to prefer the department of state to that of the 
treasui-y, where, alone, he could have negotiated the ti-eaty of 



I 



DEFENSE OF THE TREATY. 369 

Washington, but to defend the ti-eatj itself against that class of 
persons, before alluded to, who were not willing that any one 
man should " deserve too well of the republic," Several dis- 
tinct charges were brought against the treaty, in both houses 
of congress, when Mr. Webster was not there, not being a 
member, to answer them. He was charged with having alien- 
ated a portion of our territory to a foreign government ; w^ith 
having proposed or accepted a line of boundary unfavorable in 
a military point of view, to the United States, while important 
advantages were seciu-ed by it to Great Britain ; with havmg 
failed to settle the great and annoying question of' the right 
of search, as set up by Great Britain in regard to vessels sup- 
posed to be engaged in the African slave-trade ; and with hav 
ing demanded of England no redress for the destruction of the 
steamboat Caroline. 

It was not until four years after the ratification of the treaty, 
in the spring of 1846, that Mr. Webster had the opportunity 
of answering these charges, and of defending his reputation as 
a diplomatist. During the winter and spring of that year, in 
the discussion of the Oregon question, when Mr. Webster was 
again m the senate, the treaty was once more assailed in both 
houses of congress in a style of vituperation not at all credita- 
ble to the moderation of the assailants. Mr. Dickinson, one of 
the senators from New York, delivered a speech on the bound- 
ai'y of Oregon, in which he quoted largely and approvingly 
from a speech made previously by Mr. C. J. higersoU, a mem- 
ber of the lower house from Pennsylvania, who had industri- 
ously gathered up objections to the treaty, and who had partic- 
ularly given currency to certain oflensive and injurious rumoi-s 
in relation to the aflair of the Caroline. This speech of Mr. 
Dickinson had at least the merit of calling Mr. Webster out to 
make one of the ablest and most triumphant defences ever ut- 
tered since the delivery of the oration for the crown. It must 
ever be regarded, m the sober judgment of history, as a perfect 



370 . WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

vindication of the treaty and of the man who acted the first 
part in its negotiation. Nor can it be doubted, that the per 
petrators of the assault would have chosen, afler all was over, 
never to have made it, unless the notoriety of havmg held 
combat with a man, who, in general, was prudently let alone, 
was a sufficient satisfliction in a contest from which no livitifr 
person could reasonably have expected fame. Besides giving a 
most conclusive answer to every charge brought against the treaty, 
and against himself, Mr. Webster turned upon his assailants, 
and upon the party whose champions they were, and proved, 
to a demonstration, that, if he had not accomplished all that 
could have been desired, they and their party, though admin- 
istering the government more than two-thirds of the time since 
its origin, had done literally nothing. Indeed, he showed that 
the two last democratic administrations had left our difficulties 
with Great Britain in a woree condition than they found them ; 
and, at the conclusion of his speech, which ran through the 6th 
and 7th of Api'il, he submits his whole case to the decision of 
mankind in a strain of dignified but humble confidence, which 
always characterized him on such occasions : , " Mr, President, 
I have reached the end of these remarks, and the completion 
of my purpose ; and I am now ready, sir, to put the question 
to the senate, and to the country, whether the north-eastern 
boundary has not been fairly and satisfactorily settled ; whether 
proper satisfection and apology have not been obtained for an 
aggression on the soil and territory of the United States ; 
wliether proper and safe stipulations have not been entered into 
for the fulfillment of the duty of government, and for meeting 
the earnest desire of the people, in the suppression of the slave- 
trade ; whether in pursuance of these stipulations, a degree of 
success in the attainment of that object has not been reached, 
wholly unknown before ; whether crimes disturbing the peace 
of nations have not been suppressed ; whether the safety of 
tlie southern coasting trade has not been secured ; whether im- 



APPEAL TO PUBLIC OPINION. 371 

pressment has not been struck out from the list of contested 
questions among nations; and finally, and more than all, 
whether anythuig has been done to tarnish the luster of the 
American name and character ? 

" Mr. President, my best services, like those of every other 
good citizen, are due to my country ; and I submit them, and 
their results, in all humility, to her judgment. But standing 
here, to-day, in the senate of the United States, and speaking 
in behalf of the administration of which I formed a part, and 
m behalf of the two houses of congress, who sustained that ad- 
ministration, cordially and effectually, in everything relatuig to 
this day's discussion, I am willing to appeal to the public men 
of the age, Avhether, in 1842, and in the city of Washmgton, 
something was not done for the suppression of crime, for the 
true exposition of the prmciples of public law, for the freedom 
and security of commerce on the ocean, and for the peace of 
the world]" | 

To this appeal, the public men of the age, on both sides of 
the Atlantic, have given almost a unanimous response. They 
have responded, that the illustrious secretary was entirely jus- 
tified in remaming in the cabinent of j\Ir. Tyler, so long as that 
gentleman continued to aid him in achieving the great work for 
which, and for which alone, he had accepted the high post at 
the hands of General Harrison. They have responded, that 
the treaty of Washington, professedly a treaty of mutual con- 
cession, is upon the whole the wisest possible settlement of the 
long-standing and vexed difficulties between two great nations 
jealous of each other's power, and stubborn in the mainte- 
n;ince of their o^vn rights. Tliey have responded, that the man 
who negotiated that treaty, in the midst of obstacles which 
',\ould have disheartened, and did dishearten and defeat, the 
ablest and most determined of our statesmen, performed a 
work for his country, and for his age, which no other American, 
then living, could have performed, or perfoi'med so well. They 
VOL. I. P* 24 



372 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

have responded, in spite of the vigorous and repeated but in- 
significant attacks naade upon it, by mere paitisan politicians, 
that the treaty stands far above party, as it is far above assault, 
a monument of American diplomacy, worthy to be made, as it 
has been made, a model for the oldest and most experienced 
nations. They have responded, in a v/ord, that the American 
who negotiated that instrument, had this been his only work, 
would have stood, in the judgment of all enlightened men, by 
the side of the most distinguished and successful diplomatists 
of ancient and of modern times ; and it is probably not too 
much to say, that the treaty of Washington will hereafter, for 
generations yet to come, be looked back to as the ablest treaty 
ever made, in time of peace, between the United States and aiiy 
other country, and as a particular star in that coronet of fame 
which is ever to circle the name of Daniel Webster. Immedi- 
ately aftex its completion, at all events, it cannot be denied, 
that tliat coronet shone brighter than at any previous period of 
his history. The first public address that he made, after reti- 
ring from Mr. Tyler's cabinet — and he retired as soon as he 
could after the treaty was secured — ^^vas quoted in England, in 
France, and in nearly every part of Europe, as the most relia- 
ble statement of the condition and prospects of this country, in 
a financial point of view, to be met with ; and these quotations, 
wliich embodied but the opinion of a single individual, of only 
one citizen of this country, who now held no ofhce, who had 
no longer a control over public affiairs, who never had had the 
charge of his country's finances, materially affected the value 
of American securities in London, in Paris, and in every great 
commercial city of the continent. At this time of his life, in- 
deed, not only was his word more powerful at home than that 
of any other American, whether in office or out of office, but it 
had gone out to other countries, and become the basis of the 
heaviest pecuniary transactions among nations, and in regions, 
where the names of some of the presidents of the republic had 



ANSWER TO THE APPEAL. 373 

not yet been made familiar. So true it is, that genius is loftier 
than place, tliat talents are mightier than position ; for at the pe- 
riod now under view, the highest place, without doubt, for power 
and influence held by any person in this country, when all the 
great interests of mankind are considered, was that occupied, 
wherever or whatever he might be, in public or in private life, 
by Daniel Webster. 



CHAPTER XL 

AGAIN SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS. 

The two years which succeeded his retirement from the cab- 
inet of Mr. Tyler, Mr. Webster spent in the peaceful enjoy- 
ments of private life ; and they must have been the happiest 
two years he had seen since the halcyon days of his childhood. 
Revered as a sage in his own country, and possessed of a fame that 
had gone into every great nation of the globe, he was free from 
the cares and turmoil of office, and could walk over his lands 
at Marshfield, thmking his own great thoughts with a freshness 
and freedom which he had scarcely ever known before. Re- 
turning from his rambles on the farm, he could go into his 
magnificent library, which was stored with the standard works 
of the most enlightened ages and countries, and lose himself in 
other rambles, or engage in those more fixed mvestigations, which 
constitute the most agreeable recreation and employment of the 
mind. To diversify these pursuits, he could go, as he did often 
go, to the boat-house where he kept his skiffs, and wind his 
way along the crooked tide-channels, that intersect his posses- 
sions, to the beach of the great ocean, where he could enjoy 
hours of absolute solitude, alone with nature, and give loose 
rein to his memory, his reason, and his fancy. As expert at 
fishing as any of the disciples of the great angler, and capable 
of teachmg where Sir Izaak himself was not informed, with 
Captain Hewitt for helmsman, he would be out upon the 
sti'eams before the sun had risen, and devote all the cool hours 
of morning to tliis amusement ; and in these ways, as a needed 
and long-desired relaxation from the corroding anxieties of pub- 



TWO tears' vacation. 375 

lie station, many of the bright days of the two years of the sec- 
ond vacation of his life were made still brighter, till he was 
again called to tlie senate of the United States by a common- 
wealth, Avhich, while he lived, could not long suffer itself to be 
otherwise represented. 

The two years, however, were not entirely devoted to recre- 
ation. As needy of rest as Mr. Webster knew himself to be, 
he could not satisfy himself to remain a sUent spectator, when 
he saw a movement in inception, which he looked upon as dan- 
gerous to the peace, if not to the liberties, of the country. It 
was during the two years of his retirement that the project was 
revived of annexing Texas to the Union. Texas, having as- 
serted and maintained her independence of Mexico by a brief 
but bloody revolution, had offered herself to the United States 
during the kindred administi'ations of Jackson and of Van Bu 
ren ; and both of these presidents had rejected the overture ou 
the ground, that, if accepted, it would involve us in a war with 
^Mexico. Mr. T^^ler, however, eager in some way to win back 
some portion of the country that had deserted him, tliought he 
could secure the south by accepting what had been twice re- 
jected. But there was not southern strength enough in con- 
gi'ess, during his day, to carry the proposed measure, and it 
therefore remained till the expiration of Mr. Tyler's term, to 
be made one of the two great issues of the succeeding presi- 
dential canvass. Mr. Webster, foreseeing that this would be 
the case, exerted himself, while at home at Marshfield, to rouse 
the country against the measure ; and his correspondence and 
conversation were the means of first waking the attention of 
the public to this new^ mode of extending the area of slavery. 
He met with no gi'eat success, however, in warning his fellow- 
citizens against the insidious undertaking. His most confiden. 
tial friends, his warmest admirers, could hardly believe that 
there was any real danger. His opponents accused him, rather 
plainly, of play mg the demagogue, as he was now out of office, 



376 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

or of suddenly becoming an alarmist. He lived to remind 
both his friends and his enemies of his exertions on this sub- 
ject, and of their own apathy and uncharitableness : " For a 
few years," says he, in his remarks on the Mexican war, de- 
livered on the 23d of March, 18-48, " I held a position in the 
executive administration of the government. I left the depart- 
ment of state in 1843, in the month of May. Within a month 
after another (an intelligent gentleman, for whom I cherished 
a high respect, mid who came to a sad and untimely end) had 
taken my place, I had occasion to know, not officially, but from 
circumstances, that the annexation of Texas was taken up by 
Mr. Tyler's administration as an administration measure. It 
was pushed, pressed, insisted on ; and I believe the honorable 
gentleman to whom I have referred had something like a pas- 
sion for the accomplishment of this purpose. And I am afraid 
that the president of tlie United States at that time suffered his 
ardent feelings not a little to control his more prudent judg- 
ment. At any rate, I saw, in 1843, that annexation had be- 
come a purpose of the administration. I was not in congress 
nor in public life. But, seeing this state of things, I thought it 
my duty to admonish the country, so far as I could, of tlie ex- 
istence of that purpose. There are gentlemen at the north, 
many of them, there are gentlemen now in the capitol, who 
know, that in the summer of 1843, being fully persuaded that 
this purpose was embraced with zeal and determination by the 
executive department of the government of the United States, 
I thought it my duty, and asked them to concur with me in 
the attempt, to make that purpose known to the country. I 
conferred with gentlemen of distinction and influence. I pro- 
posed means for exciting public attention to the question of an- 
nexation, before it should have become a party question ; for I 
had learned that, when any topic becomes a party question, it 
is in vain to argue upon it. 



ELECTION OF MR. POLK. 377 

" But the optimists, and the quietists, and those who said, 
All things are well, and let all things alone, discouraged, dis- 
countenanced, and repressed any such effort. The north, they 
said, could take care of itself; the country could take care of 
itself, and would not sustain Mr. Tyler in his project of annex- 
ation. When the time should come, they said, the power of 
the north would be felt, and would be found sufficient to resist 
and prevent the consummation of the measure. And I could 
now refer to paragraphs and articles in the most respectable 
and leading journals of the north, in which it was attempted to 
produce the impression that there was no danger ; there could 
be no addition of new states, and men need not alarm them- 
selves about that." 

INIr. Van Buren, who had been regarded as a martyr by liis 
party, and who had been generally looked to as the democratic 
candidate for the presidency, if not hostile, was cautious in re- 
gard to the project of annexation ; and his caution, hitherto ap- 
plauded as his leading characteristic as a statesman, had ceased 
to be admired by southern politicians. They wanted a man 
sure to sustain the doctrine of the annexation of more slave ter- 
ritory to the republic; consequently, at the national democratic 
convention of 1844, Mr. Van Buren was rejected ; and the con- 
vention selected Mr. Polk as its candidate, a gentleman of great 
private worth and some abilities as a public man, but nearly 
unknown to the citizens of the country. The whigs set up Mr. 
Clay for the same high office ; and the canvass was carried 
through with unusual spirit by both parties. Mr. Clay was in 
favor of a United States bank, but opposed to annexation. Mr, 
Polk was a friend to annexation, but opposed to a general bank. 
Mr. Clay depended on the anti-slavery vote of the north ; but 
in this he met with utter and a disastrous disappointment. 
That vote, by being thrown away on a separate candidate, se- 
cured the election of Mr. Polk, secured the annexation of Texas, 
with her debts and slaves, and led directly forward to the war 



378 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

with Mexico, to the acquisition of new and vast regions of ter 
ritory, to the difficulties attending the organization of those ter- 
ritories, even to the fugitive slave bill, wliich they afterwards 
so unanimously denounced. Mr. Webster, with his usual sa- 
gacity, foresaw all these consequences, and warned the country, 
and the anti-slavery part of it in particular, to avoid them; and 
had the latter heeded the warnings of the great statesman, and 
voted with him for Henry Qay against annnexation, Mr. Clay 
would have been elected, Texas would have been kept out of 
the Union, the war with Mexico would not have happened, the 
south-western territories would not have been acquired, no com- 
promise of 1850 would have been demanded, and no new fugi- 
tive slave law, as a part of that compromise, would liave been 
asked for or granted. 

Mr. Polk and the extension of slavery were in this way sanc- 
tioned by a constitutional majority, though a minority in fact, 
of the American people ; and, as a matter of course, the first 
thing undertaken, and the first thing effected, was the annexor 
tion of the new republic. Failing to find votes enough in con- 
gress to carry annexation according to the constitution, or ac- 
cording to usage under the constitution, it was secured by a 
simple joint resolution of the two houses, a mode not contem- 
plated by that instrument, if not in opposition to it. Mr. Web- 
ster, now once more a member of the senate, having been ap- 
pointed to succeed Mr. Choate, who had been himself appointed 
to supply the vacancy made by Mr. Webster's accepting office 
under General Harrison, raised his voice, and the voice of Mas- 
sachusetts, against the measure. He opposed it on the ground, 
that too great an expansion of our national territory, for what- 
ever reason or by whatever means effected, would be dangei^ 
ous to the perpetuity of the government ; that he wished to 
have the United States stand as an example of a country grow- 
ing greater, not by aggressions on the peaceful territories of 
our neighbors, but by the development of its own resources, 



ANNEXATION OF TEXA6. 379 

and by the establishment, as national characteristics, of moder 
ation and justice ; and that, by tlie admission of Texas, we 
should be adding to the already existing inequality between the 
states north and south, arising from the existence of slavery and 
an unequal mode of popular representation founded on it : "In 
the next place, sir," said the senator, in giving a formal state- 
ment of this reason for his opposition, " I have to say, that 
while I hold, with as much integrity, I trust, and faithfulness, as 
any citizen of this country, to all the original arrangements and 
compromises under which the constitution under which we now 
live was adopted, I never could, and never can, persuade my- 
self to be in favor of the admission of other states into the 
Union as slave states, with the inequalities which were allowed 
and accorded by the constitution to the slave-holding states then 
in existence. I do not tliink that the free states ever expected, 
or could expect, that they would be called on to admit more slave 
states, having the unequal advantages arising to them fi-om the 
mode of apportioning representation under the existuig con- 
stitution. 

" Sir, I have never made an effort, and never propase to 
make an effort ; I have never countenanced an eflbrt, and never 
mean to countenance an effort, to disturb the arrangements, as 
originally made, by which the various states came into the 
Union. But I cannot avoid considering it quite a different ques- 
tion, when a proposition is made to admit new states, and that 
they be allowed to come in with the same advantages and ine- 
qualities which were agreed to in regard to the old. It may 
be said, that, according to the provisions of the constitution, 
new states are to be admitted upon the same footing as the old 
states. It may be so ; but it does not follow at all from that 
provision, that every territory or portion of country may at 
pleasure establish slavery, and then say we will become a por- 
tion of the Union, and will bring with us the principles which 
we have thus adopted, and must be received on the same foot- 



880 -WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ing as the old states. It will always be a question whether the 
other states have not a right (and I think they have the clearest 
right) to require that the state coming into the Union should 
come in upon an equality ; and if the existence of slavery be 
an impediment to coming in on an equality, then the state pro- 
posing to come in should be required to remove that inequality 
by abolishing slavery, or take the alternative of being excluded. 

" Now, I suppose that I should be very safe in saying, that 
if a proposition were made to introduce from the north or the 
north-west territories into this Union, under circumstances 
which would give them an equivalent to that enjoyed by slave 
states, — advantage and inequality, that is to say, over the south, 
such as this admission gives to the south over the north, — I 
take it for granted that there is not a gentleman in this body 
from a slave-holding state that would listen for one moment to 
such a proposition. I therefore put my opposition, as well as 
on other grounds, on the political ground that it deranges the 
balance of the constitution, and creates inequality and unjust ad- 
vantage against the north, and in favor of the slave-holding coun- 
try of the south. I repeat, that if a proposition were now made 
for annexations from the north, and that proposition contained 
such a preference, such a manifest inequality, as that now before 
us, no one could hope that any gentleman from the southern 
states would hearken to it for a moment. 

" It is not a subject that I mean to discuss at length. I am 
quite aware that there are in this chamber gentlemen represent- 
ing free states, gentlemen from the north and east, who have man- 
ifested a disposition to add Texas to the Union as a slave-state, 
with the common inequality belonging to slave states. This is 
a matter for their own discretion, and judgment, and responsi- 
bility. They are in no way responsible to me for the ex- 
ercise of the duties assigned them here ; but I must say that 
I eannot but think that the time will come when they will very 
much doubt both the propriety and justice of the present pro- 



OPPOSES ANKEXAtlOlf. 381 

ceeding. I cannot but think the time will come when all will 
be convinced that there is no reason, political or moral, for 
increasing the number of the states, and increasing, at the same 
time, the obvious inequality which exists in the representation 
of the people in congi'ess by extending slavery and slave rep- 
resentation. 

" On looking at the proposition further, I find that it imposes 
restraints upon the legislature of the state as to the manner in 
which it shall proceed (in case of a desire to proceed at all) in 
order to the abolition of- slavery. I have perused that part of 
the constitution of Texas, and, if I understand it, the legislature 
is restrained from abolishing slavery at any time, except on 
two conditions ; one, the consent of every master, and the 
other, the payment of compensation. Now I think that a con- 
stitution thus formed ties up the hands of the legislature effect- 
ually against any movement, under any state of circumstances, 
with a view to abolish slavery ; because, if anything is to be 
done, it must be done witliin the state by general law, and 
such a thing as the consent of every master cannot be obtained ; 
though I do not say that there may not be an inherent power 
in the people of Texas to alter the constitution, if they should 
be inclined to relieve themselves hereafter from the restraint 
under which they labor. But I speak of the constitution now 
presented to us. 

" Mr. President, I was not in congress at the last session, and 
of course had no opportunity to take part in the debates upon 
this question ; nor have I before been called upon to discharge 
a public trust in. regard to it. I certainly did, as a private cit- 
izen, entertain a strong feeling that, if Texas were to be brought 
into the Union at all, she ought to be brought in by diplomatic 
arrangement, sanctioned by treaty. But it has been decided 
otherwise by both houses of congress ; and, whatever my o\vn 
opinions may be, I know that many who coincided with me 
feel them.selves, nevertheless, bound by the decision of all 



382 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

branches of the government. My own opinion and judgment 
have not been at all shaken by anything I have heard. And 
now, not having been a member of the government, and having, 
of course, taken no official part m the measure, and as it has 
now come to be completed, I have believed that I sliould best 
discharge my own duty, and fulfill the expectations of those 
who placed me here, by giving this expression of their most 
decided, unequivocal, and unanimous dissent and protest ; and 
stating, as I have now stated, the reasons which have unpelled 
me to withhold my vote. 

" I agree with the unanimous opinion of the legislature of 
Massachusetts ; I agree with the great mass of her people ; I 
reaffirm what I have said and written during the last eight 
years, at various times, against this annexation. I here record 
my own dissent and opposition ; and I here express and place 
on record, also, the dissent and protest of the state of Massa- 
chusetts." 

The joint resolution, however, which had been originally re- 
ported to the house by Air. Douglas, representative from the 
state of Illinois, passed ; and the very next event in the history 
of the country, as had been foreseen and foretold by Mr. Web- 
ster, was a war with Mexico. Having labored to bring the re- 
public of Texas into the confederacy, as well as for official rea,- 
sons, Mr. Polk felt bound to defend the new state against the 
Mexican forces, wliich were hovering along its south-western 
border. General Taylor, with a small army, was at once sent 
to Texas for this purpose. He was ordered to take up his po- 
sition between the Rio del Norte and the Neuces. Here, in 
spite of his uncommon abilities as a commander, he was soon 
threatened with destruction ; and the president was compelled, 
in all haste, to send on reenforcements. This, therefore, with- 
out any declaration by congress, and in a manner rendering it 
impossible for congress to interfere, was the origin of the war. 

The war having been begun, and the lives of American sol- 



•THE OREGON DISPUTE. 383 

diers and American citizens being in great hazard, Mr. Web- 
ster could not do otherwise than vote for all the supplies de- 
manded to carry the war on, till peace could be honorably- 
concluded. The same principle by which he had been actua^ 
ted in 1812 again controlled his course in 1845 ; and he car- 
ried his patriotism, or moderation, to such a pitch, that he per- 
mitted his son Edward, a very promising young man, to enter 
the army as a volunteer, and sacrifice his life before the walls 
of Mexico. Mr. Webster never failed to submit with grace, 
and, if possible, to use with advantage, what he could not 
prevent. 

While the war Avith INIexico was in progress, the president 
raised another question, which, almost at once, threatened to 
excite hostilities between us and England. Mr. Polk, whose 
supporters in the canvass had claimed the whole of Oregon, 
and made 54 degrees 40 minutes a watchword of the party, 
and a by-word with the people, in his inaugural address, and 
afterwards in his first and second annual messages to conorress, 
had stated that our right to the whole of Oregon " was clear 
and unquestionable." This opinion, of course, was given in his 
official character as president of the United States ; and ac- 
cordingly, in the first of the above messages, he recommended 
that the United States should give notice to Great Britain of 
their intention " to terminate the convention between the two 
countries," concluded in 1827, for the joint occupation of the ter- 
ritory. A joint resolution was, therefore, introduced into the 
senate by Mr. Allen, of Ohio, and referred to the committee 
on foreign relations, who reported it back with amendments ; 
and while the second time before the senate, it received several 
additional amendments and alterations. Fearing that an un- 
qualified notice of separation would needlessly alarm the pub- 
lic, and embarrass the settlement of the question, Mr. Critten- 
den, of Kentucky, moved a new amendment, the purport of 
which was, that, in order to afford ample time for the amicable 



384 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

adjustment of the question, said notice ought not to be given 
till after the termination of the current session of congress. 
On this amendment, Mr. Webster addressed the senate, and 
this speech, delivered on the 24th of February, 1846, was one 
of the very few which he was ever known to read m congress. 
He toolc the position, in opposition to the extreme language of 
the president, that if the Oregon dispute w^as ever settled, it 
would be settled on the forty-ninth degree of latitude. This 
idea was immediately scouted by the leading friends of the ad- 
ministration, in both houses ; but the result justified the predic- 
tion, and illustrated the sagacity of Mr. Webster. The foity- 
ninth parallel was accepted by that very president, who had 
asserted our right to the whole of Oregon, in such emphatic 
terms, " as clear and unquestionable ; " and after all was over, 
and over to the satisfaction of the country, Mr. Webster coul* 
not fail to draw some amusement from the fact, that the very 
persons and the party who, in 1842 and afterwards, had threat- 
ened him with a political crucifixion for having alienated a worth- 
less strip of"" disputed territory," which he and they had always 
looked upon not only as disputed, but as doubtful, should now 
surrender to the same government a section of country, to 
which our title was asserted by them as incontestable, which, 
in width, would cover the space lymg between Lake Erie and 
North Carolina, and in length would extend nearly or quite all 
the way from Massachusetts to the Mississippi ! 

However inconsistent for Mr. Polk to settle the Oregon con- 
troversy in this way, in the face of his extreme and uncompro- 
mising assertions, the same settlement would have been proper 
enough for Mr. Webster, who had never f^ken the untenable 
position. The truth is, indeed, this is the very settlement which 
he was prepared to offer to Lord Ashburton, and which, had 
the noble diplomatist been instructed by his government upon 
this subject, would undoubtedly have constituted a portion of 
the treaty of Washington. In the absence of such insti-uctions 



SERVICES OF MR. WEBSTER. 385 

nothing could be accomplished, and nothing was accomplished, 
at that time, by Mr. Webster, in the arrangement of this 
question ; but the merit of the settlement, nevertheless, when 
the settlement was in fact made, belonged, after all, not to Mr. 
Polk, nor to his cabinet, but to Mr. Webster, who, doubtless, 
would never have taken the pains to bring out the evidence of 
his services, in this particular, to the peace of nations and the 
best good of the human family. The evidence, however, came 
forth in an accidental manner. The London Examiner, in an 
article toucliing the relations of Great Britain and the United 
States, furnished the proof that it was ]\Ir. Webster, and not 
the current administration, that was chiefly instrumental in 
bringing this vexed controversy to a peaceful and happy ter- 
mmation : " In reply to a question put to him in reference to 
the present war establishments of this country, and the pro- 
priety of applying the principle of arbitration in the settlement 
of disputes arising among nations, Mr. McGregor, one of the 
candidates for the representation of Glasgow, took occasion to 
narrate the following very important and remarkable anecdote, 
in connection with our recent, but now happily terminated dif- 
ferences with the United States on the Oregon question. At 
the time our embassador at Washington, the Hon. Mr. Paken- 
ham, refused to negotiate on the forty-ninth parallel of north 
latitude as the basis of a treaty, and when, by that refusal, the 
danger of a rupture between Great Britain and America be- 
came really imminent, Mr. Daniel Webster, formerly secretary 
of state to the American government, wrote a letter to Mr. 
^McGregor, in which he strongly deprecated Mr. Pakenham's 
conduct, which, if persisted in, and adopted at home, would, to 
a certainty, embroil the two countries, and suggested an equi- 
table compromise, taking the forty-ninth parallel as the basis of 
an adjustment. Mr. McGregor agreeing entirely with Mr. 
Webster in the propriety of a mutual giving and taking to 
avoid a rupture, and the more especially as the whole territory 



386 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

in dispute was not woith £20,000 to either power, while the 
preparations alone for a war would cost a great deal more be- 
fore the parties could come into actual conflict, communicated 
the contents of Mr. Websters letter to Lord Jolin Russell, 
who at the time was living in the neighborhood of Edinburgh, 
and, in reply, received a letter from Lord John, in which he 
stated his entire accordance with the proposal recommended by 
Mr. Webster, and approved of by Mr. ]\IcGregoi', and re- 
quested the latter, as he (Lord John) was not in a position to 
do it himself, to intimate his opinion to Lord Aberdeen. Mr. 
McGregor, through Lord Canning, under-secretary for the for- 
eign department, did so, and the result was, that the first packet 
that left England carried out to America the proposal, in ac- 
cordance with the communication already referred to, on which 
the treaty of Oregon was happily concluded." 

While the war with Mexico was in progress, and while it 
was becoming moi"e and more expensive, as well as more and 
more doubtful in regard to its termination, the administration 
proposed to amend the tariff of 1842, which had been proposed 
by congress, and accepted by the people, as a basis for the 
business of the country. Once more, indeed, every class of 
business, and every interest of every citizen of the republic, 
was to be unsettled for tlie sake of an experiment, for a long 
time the subject of party speculation, but never before tried in 
practice. Not only was the tariff, as a tarifl', to be tampered 
with, but the principle of raising revenue, the principle on 
which all tariffs are based, was to undergo a sudden alteration. 
All former bills of tariflj since the beginning of the govern- 
ment, had been what political economists call specific, which lay 
certain duties on certain articles, according to their character 
and their relations, individually, to the business of the country. 
The new bill was to lay duties on all imports, with no view to 
the protection of any business or interest of the country, 
whether agricultural, commercial, or manufacturing, but with a 



BFVIVAL OP THE SUB-TREASURT. 387 

sole regard to the market value of the article imported. All 
former bills had aimed at both revenue and protection ; and 
they had taken such shapes as would raise the most money for 
the treasury, while they extended the greatest amount of en- 
coui-agement to labor, thus making common cause between the 
government of the people and the people of the government. 
The new bill proposed simply to raise money for the govern- 
ment, without any respect to the interests of ^e people. This 
sudden and radical change of policy, it proposed to make at a 
time when the people were already taxed to the amount of 
about half a million of dollars per day to carry on a war not of 
their own undertaking, but forced upon them by the influence, 
some would say the intrigues, of government. The new bill 
was, therefore, looked upon, by every unprejudiced mind, as an 
untried and doubtful experiment, particularly unacceptable at a 
time when the government and the people needed a certam 
reliance for the exigencies of the moment, and when the busi- 
ness of all classes could, with no safety, suffer a shock so sud- 
den and so fundamental. This was the light in which IVfr. 
Webster held it; and accordingly, in a speech of great length, 
delivered on the 26th and 27th of July, 1846, he met it with a 
steadfast and sturdy opposition. As his main positions, he ar- 
gued that the new bill was unjust and impolitic in itself; that 
it was exceedingly unfriendly to commerce ; and that it would 
prove deleterious to the labor, and to all the laboring and pro- 
ducing classes, of the country. His speech was learned, elo- 
quent, and able ; but, as an opposition to the new measure, 
which was supported entirely on party grounds, it was unsuc- 
cessful. The bill, which introduced into our financial system 
the ad valorem principle of indirect taxation, passed by a sti'ong 
majority, and was at once received as the established policy of 
the democratic party. 

On the first day of August, 1846, Mr. Webster again ad- 
dressed the senate on the bill " to provide for the better organ- 
voL. I. Q 25 



388 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ization of the treasury, and for the collection, safe-keeping, 
transfer and disbursement of the public revenue," which was 
only the revival of the old sub-treasury system. That system, 
brought forward by Mr. Van Buren at the extra session of 
1837, had been twice defeated in succession, but it had received 
a majority, and become a law, in 1840, to be repealed and 
abandoned in less than one year afterwards. Now, in 1846, it 
was reproduced in a new form ; and, as before, it encountered 
the opposition of Mr. Webster. His remarks, though brief, 
were powerful and pertinent; but tlie administration was more 
powerful ; and his voice, equal to many voices in debate, was 
only one when the question came to the determination of a 
vote. 

In the spring of 1847, accompanied by his family, Mr. Web- 
ster took occasion, in the recess of congress, to travel somewhat 
extensively through the southern states. It was liis plan to 
proceed from Boston to Washington, from Washington south- 
ward along the Atlantic coast to New Orleans, from New 
Orleans up the Mississippi, and the Ohio, and over the rich 
prairies and rolling uplands of that interior section to the lakes, 
and thence homeward through New York. Before leaving 
home, he resolved to have as little to do with politics as possi- 
ble ; and he must have been sincere in this intention ; for, had 
this tour of sight-seeing, as is frequently the case with politi- 
cians, been a political journey in disguise, he certainly could not 
have selected a more unpropitious field for the gathering of 
laurels. He had never been a southern man, nor a northern 
man of southern principles, but an American, with the broad 
views and comprehensive feelings of an American, with too 
much self-respect, too much pride of character, to stoop after 
popular favor, whether fi-ora the north or south, from the 
east or west. His principles, however, had led him, through 
his entire political career, to take a position against the propa- 
gation and increase of slavery ; and this, m spite of his emi- 



VISIT TO THE SOUTH. 389 

nent abilities, had caused him to be looked upon, by southern 
politicians, with general disfavor, and sometimes with disrespect. 
The people, however, of every section of the country, will gen- 
erally follow their own instincts, their own intuitions, their own 
judgments, without too m.uch deference to the dictation of those 
whom their own tavor has elevated to a superior rank. Mr, 
Webster found it so on his journey to the south. The citizens 
of every village, town and city, through which he passed, or in 
which he stopped, rushed together in vast crowds to pay their 
warmest admiration to a man, who, though not of their partic- 
ular family, belonged to the great American brotherhood, of 
which they everywhere acknowledged him to be the most dis- 
tinguished living ornament. Not only did Mr. Webster's visit 
give the southerners occasion to manifest their admiration of 
an American worthy of their regard, but it served to touch a 
chord, which, perhaps, is more delicate and more responsive 
than any other in the heart of a true southern gentleman. His 
visit touched upon their magnanimity. Wherever he went, 
the citizens of the south saw a man, who, though known to 
them as their strongest and sturdiest antagonist, had dared to 
trust himself, and his comfort, and liis reputation for a season, 
with those of whom he had bought no favor. This mark of 
confidence is always enough for a genuine southerner. If his 
worst enemy comes to his door in this spirit, he springs to his 
feet with a most hearty welcome ; and he will shower him 
with attentions, heartfelt and heart-moving, so long as such an 
act of confidence may be continued. This generous trait of 
character greatly impressed the equally noble disposition of 
Mr. Webster. After his return, he frequently made it the 
subject of his eulogy ; and he has often said that, in this pecu- 
liar magnanimity, he never saw a people more remarkable than 
tliose he met with during his brief visit to th? south. With 
all his acknowledgment, however, it must still be remembered 
tliat the homage was paid, not to an individual having no per- 



/ 



S90 WEBSTEfe AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Eonal claims for such distinction, but to an American renowned 
the world over for the originality and grandeur of his genius. 
Whatever the motives, nevertheless, there can be no doubt 
that Mr. Webster was everywhere received with as much 
ceremony, with as much eclat, with as much applause, in all 
the large places which he visited, as he ever had been in New 
York, or in Boston ; and had not sickness stopped him at Sa- 
vannah, and sent him homeward before his time, it can scarcely 
be conjectured with what swelling triumphs he would have been 
greeted, as he had wound his way up the great western rivers, 
through the midst of<»a mighty population capable of apprecia- 
ting real greatness, and able, as it is always willing, to give it 
an appropriate welcome. 

On his return to congress, after spending a short period in 
the quiet of his home, the first thing that met him in the senate 
was the war with Mexico, at that time the engrossing topic 
throughout the country. On former occasions, he had spoken 
of the war m the presence of the senate. His first speech on 
that subject had been delivered as early as the 24th of June, 
1846, on a bill whose object was to organize the volunteer force 
which the war had invited into the service of the United States. 
In the month of March, 1847, he had also spoken briefly upon 
reading to the senate certain resolutions of the legislature of 
Massachusetts, in which the war had been unanimously con- 
demned. Now, during the session of 1847-8, while the same 
subject occupied every tongue and pen in the country usually 
devoted to pvxblic matters, he remained a silent observer, till 
the 17th of March, 1848, when he again addressed the senate 
on the so-called Ten Eegiment bill ; but it was not until the 
23d of March, of this year, that he made an elaborate and full 
speech on this engrossing subject. That speech, clear, strong 
and conclusive in itself, was made under circumstances adapted 
to rouse the orator more profoundly than he was generally ac- 
customed to be roused. On the 2d of February preceding, a 



SIXGULAR PEACE MEASURES. 391 

"treaty of pe^ice, fricndsliip, limits imd settlement, between the 
United Stales of America and the Mexican Republic," had 
been signed at Guadalupe Hidalgo. On the 16th of March 
succeeding, this treaty, with the advice and consent of the sen- 
ate, had been ratified by the president of the United States, and 
sent back to Mexico in charge of two ministers empowered to 
explain it to the government and people of that republic. 
Nevertheless, after the final ratification of the treaty, when 
peace existed between the United States and Mexico, congress 
was called upon, by a special message from the president, to 
enact measures more formidable than had been found neces- 
sary during the progress of the war. It was called upon to 
raise and send into immediate service an additional force of 
thirty thousand men, and to make a loan of sixteen millions of 
dollars to defray the opening expenses of these troops. This, 
as a peace measure, called for in a time of peace, was quite too 
belligerent for Mr. Webster. It looked to him like the be- 
ginning of a standing army. The object of this great force, it 
w-as said, was to take and keep possession of those vast acqui- 
sitions of territory, which the war with Mexico had put under our 
temporary dominion. It was not to keep them against the 
Mexican government ; for that government, if such a thing ex- 
isted, had consented, formally and legally in the treaty, to those 
immense acquisitions. It was to keep them against the people 
of Mexico, who were outraged more at the imbecility of their 
own government, than at the hmigry and unscrupulous ambi- 
tion manifested by this country. It was to be, not in figure 
of speech, but in fact, a standing army in time of peace, whoso 
sole object was, as expressed by Mr. Cass, the champion of 
these measures in the senate, to frighten our fellow-citizens of 
the conquered territories iiato submission, and compel them 
to become peaceable, though unwilling, citizens of the great 
republic. 

To this entire system of measures, Mr. Webster stood up 



392 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

in determined opposition. He could see no necessity for tliem. 
If the people of the conquered provmces did not choose to 
become citizens of this country, he die not see the justice of 
compelling them, by an armed " soldiery to be conveniently 
posted throughout their country. Such a course seemed to 
him inconsistent with the precepts and practice of our hith- 
erto free government. It looked to him like governing by 
military power, as in Russia and other despotic countries, 
rather than by public opinion, as this government is professedly 
administered. With the inauguration of such a system, he 
justly thought, began, or rather was perfected, the government 
of the bayonet, which, from Mexico, might be imported back 
into the older states of the confederation. He did not forget, 
probably, that it was Csesar's army of occcupation, sent into 
Spain to awe the inhabitants into a quiet submission to the mil- 
itary sway of Rome, which, in due course of events, returned 
to take command of the capital, and set up a martial govern- 
ment that began with the fall of Roman liberty, and ended 
with the dismemberment and prostration of the empire. 

There was another reason for his opposition, which he might 
have forcibly illustrated, also, from the example of ancient 
Rome. The treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which this system 
of military measures was to enforce, was to confirm a vast and 
dangerous expansion of our territory, was to bring in immeas- 
urable tracts of land, on our southern and south-western border, 
into which slavery was to be admitted, greatly to the hazard of 
the integrity of the nation, or excluded by a congressional con- 
test, which might shake the republic to its foundations. The 
dominant party, however, backed by the army, and by new 
levies of troops, and by the contemplated loan of a great sum 
of money, which, in a time of peace, they were to use among 
the unwilling citizens of Mexico, carried all their measures, 
brought in the conquered provinces, kept them quiet by the com- 
bined power of gunpowder and of gold, and revived in congress 



Webster's opposition to them. 393 

and in the country, the old contest, m a more fearfol shape 
than had ever befoi*c existed, respecting slavery. Mr. Web- 
ster expressed a readiness to vote for the treaty, provided that 
part of it should be stricken out, which ceded to us New Mex- 
ico and California ; but to the acquisition of any farther terri- 
tory, by whatever means, he set himself in an immovable po- 
sition of hostility : " I think I see that in progress," said the 
senator, " which will disfigure and deform the constitutioru 
While these territories remain territories, they will be a trouble 
and an annoyance ; they will draw after them vast expenses ; 
they will probably require as many troops as we have main- 
tained for the last twenty years, to defend them against the 
Indian tribes. We must maintain an army at that immense 
distance. When they shall become states, they will be still 
more likely to give us trouble. 

; " I think I see a course adopted, which is likely to turn the 
constitution of the land into a deformed monster, mto a cui'se, 
rather than a blessing ; in fact, a frame of an unequal govern- 
ment, not founded on }x>pular representation, but on the grossest 
inequality ; and I think that this process Avill go on, or that 
there is danger iJiat it will go on, until this Union shall fall to 
pieces. I resist it, to-day and always ! Whoever falters, op 
whoever flies, I continue the contest ! 

" I know, sir, that all the poi'tents are discouraging. Would 
to God I could auspicate good influences ! Would to God that 
those who think witli me, and myself, could hope for stronger 
support! Would that we could ^nd where we desire to 
stand ! I see the signs are sinister. But with few, or alone, 
my position is fixed. If there were time, I would gladly awa- 
ken the country. I believe the country might be awakened, 
although it may be too late. For myself, supported or unsup- 
ported, by the blessing of God, I shall do my duty. I see well 
enough all the adverse indications. But I am sustained by a 
deep and conscientious sense of duty ; and while supported 



394 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

by that feeling, and while such great interests are at stake, 1 
defy auguries, and ask no omens but my country's cause ! " 

There are some portions of this speech, which, though per- 
fectly logical at the moment, will cause a smile at tJie present 
time. An argument may be good to-day, but to-morrow, by 
the development of some previously unkno\vn fact, or by the 
mysterious orderings of divine providence, may be simply lu- 
dicrous. For the first time, and for the last time, so far as is 
now apparent, this was about to be the case with a portion of 
the argument advanced by Mr. Webster. Among other rea- 
sons for opposing the singular measures of the administration, 
in relation to the conquest and acquisition of a part of Mexico, 
in all of which he exhibited his usual knowledge, tact and force 
of reasoning, he went on to show the absolute worthlessness of 
the newly-acquired provmces : " There are some things," says 
the orator, "one can argue against with temper, and submit to, 
if overruled, without mortification. There are other things that 
seem to affect one's consciousness of being a sensible man, and 
to imply a disposition to impose upon his common sense. 
And of this class of topics, or pretensions, I have never heai'd 
of anything, and I cannot conceive of anything, more ridiculous 
in itself, more absurd, and more affrontive to all sober judg- 
ment, than the cry that we are getting indeimiity by the ac- 
quisition of New Mexico and California. I hold they are not 
worth a dollar 5 and we pay for them vast sums of money ! " 
Li another part of the speech, after j^roving by good author- 
ity all he desired to prove in relation to New Mexico, he broke 
out into one of his strams of sarcasm, which produced quite a 
scene of merriment in the senate, in which his opponents joined as 
heartily as his -warmest friends : " New Mexico is secluded, 
isolated, a place by itself, in the midst and at the foot of vast 
mountains, five hundred miles fi-om the settled part of Texas, 
and as far fi-om anywhere else ! It does not belong any whei'e ! 
It has no beloriginQs about it ! At this moment it is absolutely 



OPINION OF THE TWO PROVINCES. 395 

more retired and shut out from communication with the civi- 
lized world than Hawaii or any of the other islands of the Pa- 
cific sea. In seclusion and remoteness, New Mexico may press 
hard on the character and condition of Typee. And its people 
are infinitely less elevated, in morals and condition, than the 
people of the Sandwich Islands. We had much better have 
senators from Oahu. They are far less intelligent than tlie 
better class of our Indian neighbors. Commend me to the 
Qierokees, to the Choctaws, if you please, speak of the Paw- 
nees, of the Snalces, the Flatfeet, of anything but the digging 
Indians, and I will be satisfied not to take the people of New 
Mexico." For half an hour, the senator proceeded in his most 
facetious humor, describing the soil and population of that prov- 
ince, telling the senate that he was endeavoring to give them a 
suitable introduction to their " respected and beloved fellow-cit- 
izens " of New Mexico ! 

And he had but little better opinion of the sister province : 
•'How is it," he asks, "with California? We propose to take 
California, from the forty-second dcgi'ee of north latitude down 
to the thirty-second. We propose to take ten degrees along 
the coast of the Pacific. Scattered along the coast for that 
great distance are settlements, and villages, and posts ; and in 
the rear, all is wilderness, and barrenness, and Indian country. 
But if, just about San Francisco, and perhaps Monterey, emi- 
grants enough should sxjttlo to malce up one state, then the peo- 
ple five hundred miles off vt'ould have another state." 

The existence of such a state, so far from the center of the 
republic, Mr. Webster thought would prove disastrous to the 
unity and harmony of the country : " In the little part which 
I have acted in public life, it has been my purpose to maintain 
the people of the United States, what the constitution designed 
to make them, one people, one in interest, one in character, and 
one in political feeling. If we depart from that, we break it 
all up. What sympathy can there be between the people of 
VOL. I. Q* 



396 "WKBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Mexico and Califomia and the inhabitants of the valley of the 
Mississippi and the eastern states in the choice of a president 1 
Do they know the same man] Do they concur in any gen- 
eral constitutional principles ? Not at all ! " 

All this reasoning, it is evident, is at this day as valid re- 
specting one of the two provinces, as it was when delivered, 
and it would be as valid of the other, had not the discovery of 
the mines, of which, in 1848, there was not the shadow of a 
dream, changed the current of nearly every pecuniary interest 
of the country. In ten years, in one year, it may not continue 
to be valid of New Mexico. Some discovery may be made 
there, some rich mine of gold, or silver, or coal, or iron, may 
come to light, which will cause thousands to rush to it, 
as to another El Dorado, in the pursuit of wealth. At the 
foot of some of its lofty mountains, or on the surface of some 
of its barren plains, healing springs may be found to issue, 
which, in reality or in fame, shall surpass all the health-giving 
foimtains of the world ; and the air of the climate, cooled by 
the mountain peaks, and dried by the immense plains of chap- 
paral and sand, may be found to be so balmy, that a region 
now utterly desolate shall at some future day become a com- 
mon watering-place for the wealthiest of the race, whose resi- 
dence and whose visits shall build up a hundred cities, and 
make gold and silver as plenty as the dust upon their streets. 
All this, however, would not destroy the logical force of Mr. 
Webster's reasoning. A similar fortune, on the part of Cali- 
fornia, has not marred the argument which no man could an- 
swer when it was delivered. Smile as we will, and smile as 
we may, on reading such passges as have been quoted, the 
smile will not change the moral character of the war with Mex- 
ico, or abate the propriety of Mr, Webster's opposition to it, 
until the sophism is established as a law in logic, that the end 
justifies the means. 
In spite of the opposition of Mr, Webster, and in spite of the 



SLAVERY QUESTION REVIVED. 397 

opposition of other able and patriotic men, the territories of 
New Mexico and Cahfornia were acquired in the manner here- 
tofore described ; and, as Mr. Webster forewarned the senate 
and the country, the first question that arose threatened a dis- 
solution of the Union. These vast tracts of unoccupied terri- 
tory being once upon our hands, congress could not agree as to 
the disposition that should be made of them ; and they became 
at once the subjects of a violent controversy between the north 
and the south. Thi*ee views prevailed in congress. The first, 
that the whole territory should be open to slavery, was advo- 
cated strenuously by the southern democrats, who were led in 
this opinion by Mr. Calhoun. The second, that the whole tei-- 
ritory should be shut against slavery, was maintained by the 
northern whigs, and by several southern whigs, at the head of 
which anti-slavery party stood Mr. Webster. The third party, 
■which was started as a sort of compromise between the two 
extremes, proposed to divide the territory between slavery and 
freedom by extending the line of the Missouri compromise to the 
Pacific; and this party was under the leadership of JNIr.Duuglas. 
The discussion of these several questions did not come up 
in congress directly on their own merits, but indirectly, as is 
apt to be the case in the settlement of vexed disputes, on the 
bill for the organization of a territorial government for Oregon. 
A bill for such an organization passed the house during the 
first session of the thirtieth congress ; and when it came to 
the senate, an amendment was offered by Mr. Douglas, apply- 
ing to it, and indirectly to the newly acquired territories, the 
doctrine of the Missouri compromise, Avhich gave the whole of 
California and New Mexico, below the parallel of 36 degrees 30 
minutes, to slavery. An animated debate arose upon this amend- 
ment, which, in spite of a steady opposition on the part of Mr. 
Webster, passed the senate by a strict party vote. On fhe 
10th of August, 1848, the bill came back from the lower house, 
with the non-concurrence of that body in the amendment of 



398 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Mr, Douglas. The question was now, whether the senate 
would recede ; and on this question Mr. Webster delivered his 
speech of the 12th of August, on the exclusion of slavery from 
the territories, the most elaborate of all his speeches upon this 
subject. Of course, he urged the senate to recede ; and he did 
so partly because he thought the amendment unparliamentary, 
having nothing to do with the bill to which it was attached. 
But his strongest objections to the amendment were based on 
its political and moral principle. He was opposed to giving 
any more ground to slavery. He maintained, that the slavery 
permitted by the constitution in some of the southern states is 
a peculiar slavery, the worst that ever existed in any age or 
country ; that the north, trusting to the supposed intention of 
the south, professed at the time of framing and adopting the 
constitution, of effecting the gradual abolition of slavery in the 
southern states, as opportunity might offer, had consented to 
the implied recognition of slavery in that instrument only in 
view of such profession ; that this new zeal of sustaining and 
extending slavery was not dreamed of either by the northern 
or southern members of the convention which framed the con- 
stitution ; that, contrary to all expectation, and to the spirit of 
the compromise then entered into, immense regions of territory 
had been added to the Union, on our southern border, under 
the lead of southern politicians, out of which five slave states had 
been created, while not one free state had been then permit- 
ted to come into the confederacy in the way of compensation ; 
and that for these, as well as for other reasons, not another foot 
of territory ought to be given up to this devouring ambition 
of the south : " I have said," remarked the senator in the con- 
elusion of his speech, "that I shall consent to no extension of 
the area of slavery upon this continent, nor to any mcrease of 
slave representation in the other house of congress. I have 
now stated my reasons for my conduct and my vote. We of 
the north have already gone, in this respect, far beyond all that 



OPPOSES EXTENSION OF SLAVERY, 399 

any southern man could have expected, or did expect, at the 
time of the adoption of the constitution. I repeat the state- 
ment of the flict of the creation of five new slaveholdinff states 
out of newly-acquired territory. We have done that which, if 
those who framed the constitution had foreseen, they never 
would have agreed to slave represenation. We have yielded 
thus far ; and we have now in the house of representatives 
twenty persons voting upon this very question, and upon all 
other questions, who are there only in virtue of the represent- 
ation of slaves. 

" Let me conclude, therefore, by remarking, that, while I 
am willing to present this as showing my own judgment and 
position, in regard to this case, — and I beg it to be understood 
that I am speaking for no other than myself — and while I am 
willing to oifer it to the world as my own justification, I rest 
on these propositions : First, that when the constitution was 
adopted, nobody looked for any new acquisition of territory to 
be formed into slave holding states. Secondly, that the prin- 
ciples of the constitution prohibited, and were intended to pro- 
hibit, and should be construed to prohibit, all interference of 
the general government with slavery as it existed and as it still 
exists in the states. And then, looking to the operation of 
these new acquisitions, which have in this great degree had the 
effect of strengthening that interest in the south by the addition 
of these five states, I feel that there is nothing unjust, nothing 
of which any honest man can complain, if he is intelligent; and 
I feel that there is nothing with which the civilized world, if 
they take notice of so humble a person as myself, will reproach 
me, when I say, as I said the other day, that I have made up 
my mind, for one, that under no circumstances will I consent 
to the further extension of the area of slavery in the United 
States, or to the further increase of slave representation in the 
house of representatives." 

So violent was the contest on this occasion, between the ad- 



400 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

vocates of freedom and the propagandists of slavery, that the 
debate marked on the journals as occurring on the 12th of 
August, which was on Saturday, actually extended to ten 
o'clock on Sunday morning. Mr. Webster had spoken fre- 
quently on the subject, but never, perhaps, with so positive a 
determination. His exertions had their success. The senate 
receded from the amendment of Mr. Douglas ; no part of the 
new territory was given up to slavery ; but another bill, im- 
mediately upon the final action of the senate on this last quas- 
tion, came to it from the lower house, providing for the organ- 
ization of territorial governments for New Mexico and Califor- 
nia, with the anti-slavery or Wilniot proviso appended to it. 
This was rejected by the senate ; and, in consequence, these 
two territories were left without a proper government till the sec- 
ond session of this congress, when it was moved by Mr. Walker, 
of Wisconsin, to extend the revenue laws, and all other laws 
of the United States applicable to their case, to California and 
New Mexico. This motion was attached to the general appro- 
priation bill ; and when it came to the lower house, it was 
there amended by the addition again of the anti-slavery pro- 
viso, which was again rejected in the senate. The controversy 
proceeded, with such intemperate zeal, that the senate came 
near to a dissolution ; and it is stated by Mr. Everett, on au- 
thority to him satisfactory, that nothing but the cool temper 
and commanding influence of Mr. Webster saved that body 
from this catastrophe and the coimtry from dishonor. He was 
the only man, it seems, who, after warning congress of the haz- 
ard to which, by their war and their acquisitions, they were ex- 
posing the republic, could save the republic from the ruin when 
it was about to fall upon us. 

It was entirely natural, as actually happened, that the people 
of the United States, alarmed at this condition of things in con- 
gress, and knowing its origin and paternity, should begin to 
waver in their attachment to a party which had reduced the 



NOMINATION OF GENERAL TAYLOR. 401 

country to such a scene of discord. They began to be alarmed 
for the safety of our institutions and for the perpetuity of the 
government. They began to wish for a change m the admin- 
istration ; and, as Providence had ordered it, it so occurred, 
that just as this crisis was coming on, the rDan who had been 
sent to Mexico to carry forward the designs of ^Mr. Polk's 
cabinet, General Zachary Taylor, had been everywhere fol- 
lowed by such splendid fortunes, as a military chieftain, as to 
secure his nomination for the presidency by acclamation. The 
nomination was made, in the first instance, not by a regular 
convention of the people, according to established custom, but 
by the soldiers under his command after the victory of Palo 
Alto, and on the blood-stained battle-field of Buena Vista. It 
was confirmed, of course, in the convention afterwards held in 
Philadelphia, to the exclusion of several illustrious statesmen, 
who were regarded by everj- citizen, in his sober moments, as 
more worthy of the honor. Men of cool judgment, and of suf- 
ficient knowledge of the past to give them the probabilities of 
the future, demurred at this nomination ; and among this class 
of citizens, in spite of the delicacy of the case, was Mr. Web- 
ster. In a speech made at IMarshfield, to his friends and neigh- 
bors, he was free to give his opinion plainly of the new candi- 
date. He regarded him as an honest, upright, good citizen. 
He acknowledged him to be in principle a sound whig. His 
only title to reputation, however, Mr. Webster set down as a 
mere military title ; and he did not think well of going to the 
army, and especially to the army of ]\f exico, for a candidate for 
the first office of the country. Washington and HaiTison, he 
admitted, had been soldiers •, but they had also been equally 
acquainted with civil matters. This Mexican army was an 
army of invasion. It was such an anny as military Rome, 
after her military despotism was established, used to send out 
to surrounding countries ; and the successful commander had 
been nominated, just as the successful Roman generals used to 



402 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

be nominated, away on the battle-field, and sent back to take 
possession of the capital of their country. The military mind, 
and the habits of a military mind, were such as to give an able 
general no popularity with INIr. Webster for the first position 
in the management of civil business. " The military mind," 
says the candid Tacitus, though speaking of his relative and 
hero, Agricola, " trained up in the school of war, is generally 
supposed to want the power of nice discrimination. The juris- 
diction of the camp is little solicitous about forms and subtle 
reasonmg ; military law is blunt and summary ; and, where 
the sword resolves all difficulties, the refined discussions of the 
forum are never practiced." That is, just so far as the military 
manner is introduced mto the administration of a government, 
so far personal authority takes the place of counsel and delib- 
eration, and just so far the practice, and gradually the liberty, 
of speech is laid aside. Such was the opinion of the first minds 
of the country at the time of this nomination. Such had been 
the experience of the country under the presidency of General 
Jackson, who, like a true military man, " took the responsibil- 
ity," as his phrase was, of all the measures of his administra- 
tion. In other words, the measures were all his own, proceed- 
ing solely and authoritatively from his own volition. For this 
very reason, in part, plainly stated and everywhere repeated, 
the whi"- party had twice opposed the election of General 
Jackson ; and Mr. Webster, having honestly entertained his 
objections to a military chieftain at those times, and having 
often publicly expressed them, could not now turn round upon 
himself, with the levity and facility of a third-rate politician, 
and receive as his first choice a man whose only distinction had 
been gained on the field of battle. To preserve his consistency, 
on this point, he expressed his dissent to the nomination ; but 
to maintain the same virtue, as the member of a party pledged 
to support regulai- nominations, he finally yielded to the 



CONSTITUTION OF CALIFORNIA. 403 

decision of the convention and advocated the election of General 
Taylor. 

hi the summer and autumn of the year 1849, an event took 
place in California, which took the country, and especially the 
southern states, by as much surprise, as had the first discovery 
of the gold-fields in the valley of the Sacramento. That event 
was the erection of a state, and the adoption of a constitution, 
without the aid or even knowledge of the federal congress, by 
the people of California, now sufficiently numerous for the pur- 
pose, into which they had incorporated the anti-slavery pro- 
viso, which had come so near causing a dissolution of congress 
and the Union ; and, before the people this side the mountains 
had tairly ascertained that any such thing was to be underta- 
ken, the representatives of California, with their constitution in 
their hands, stood at the doors of congress, seeking, if it would 
not be more proper to say demanding, entrance. To the south- 
ern democratic party, who had used their united influence to 
bring the country into the war with Mexico, for the purpose 
of adding more slave territory to the republic, this occurrence 
came as a sad and provokmg disappointment ; and it was a 
matter of almost equal regret to that part of the northern de- 
mocracy, headed by Mr, Douglas, who had undertaken to sat- 
isfy the south, and thereby promote his own aspirations, by 
running the Missouri line of compromise westward to the Pa- 
cific. California had cut off the speculations and designs of 
both portions of that party by tliis unexpected act ; and the 
election of General Taylor, who was supposed to be in favor 
pf the Californians, and opposed to the further extension of 
slavery, served to complete the mortification and stir up the 
passions of both sections, and of every individual, who had in- 
tended to propagate this species of oppression by this war with 
a tottering repubhc. The position of California, her bold de- 
maud to be admitted as a free state and with her own consti- 
tution, into the American confederacy, was at once the starting 
VOL. I. 26 



404 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

point of another congressional debate, and of renewed maneu- 
vers outside of congress, which, for folly and extravagance, have 
not been paralleled since the inauguration of the federal gov- 
ernment. Conventions of the southern members had been 
called, during the first session of the thirtieth congress, and 
they were now called again, during the progress of the second 
session, to meet in sight of that capitol, from whose dome the 
stars and stripes daily floated, whose avowed object was to in- 
vite and induce the non-slaveholding states to unite in opposition 
to the general government, provided these anti-slavery views 
were adopted in respect to the newly-acquired territories. An 
address had been prepared, written by Mr. Calhoun, who still 
took the lead of this southern party, "of the southern delegates 
to their constituents," which, by a series of concealed sophisms, 
and by the employment of such language as could not fail to 
strike the southern heart, was well calculated to rouse the jeal- 
ousy and excite the hostility of the south. Mr. Berrien, of 
Georgia, not satisfied with so narrow a field as the slave-hold- 
ing states, or unwilling to make an appeal so clearly sectional 
in its character, proposed as a substitute an address " to the 
people of the United States," which, nevertheless, had the same 
object in view, the raising of a storm against the admission of 
free states out of the territory " earned by the blood and treas- 
ure of the south." Southern blood and treasure had certainly 
been very freely spent, and spent with a design, which the 
sovereign people of California, a large portion of v/hom were 
southerners by birth, had ventured unanimously to disappoint ; 
and this disappointment, in addition to the measures already 
mentioned, led the southern members of congress to another 
step, which was still less in unison with the character of good 
patriots. They called a convention, to be held in Nashville, 
whose object was, according to the general understanding at 
the time, to concert measures for the formation of a southern 
confederacy, and, of course, for a dissolution of the Union. 



THE UNION THREATENED. 405 

Tlie address proposed by Mr. Calhoun was adopted, in prefer- 
ence to the broader and perhaps more catholic one offered by 
Mr. Berrien ; and it received the signatures of no less than 
forty-eight members of congress, all but two of whom were 
members of the democratic party. 

It cannot be denied that here were threatenincr and dansrer 
enough to the peace and stability of the Union ; and Mr. Ev- 
erett has alleged this condition of affairs as a prominent reason 
which operated on the mind of Mr. Webster in reconciling 
liim to the nomination and election of General Taylor. The 
general was a southerner by birth, but opposed to the doc- 
trines of the conventionists ; and it may have been presumed 
by ]\Ir. Webster, as it certainly was by many who otherwise 
would have been irresistible in their demands for the nomina- 
tion of a civilian, perhaps of Mr. Webster himself, that no 
northeni man could be able to inspire sufficient confidence 
among southern unionists to hold them against the pressure 
of opinion which was rapidly taking possession of the south. 
Amidst the general gloom of the times, which began to settle 
upon all sober and reflecting minds, there was one bright spot. 
California had framed her own constitution, and put to rest the 
question of slavery, so far as her territory was concerned, for- 
ever. So much, then, was fked. Upon looking a little more 
closely, another bright spot appeared. New Mexico, the other 
province about which the controversy had been raging, as it 
began now more clearly to appear, was a region entirely un- 
suited by its soil, and by the face of the country, for the profit- 
able or even possible employment of slave labor. That prov- 
ince had been made free, perpetually and eternally, in spite of all 
legislation, by the hand of the Creator. To secure the interests 
of freedom, therefore, there was no need of irritating the south 
by the application to either province of the anti-slavery pro- 
viso ; and in consequence of this fact, which every northern 
man of prominence began to see very clearly, it shortly be- 



406 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

came possible, during the early part of the winter session of 
1849-50, in a friendly conference of several of the leading and 
ablest members of both houses, to think of a reconciliation. 
Several such conferences were held ; and on the 25th of Janu- 
ary, 1850, Mr. Clay, who was the representative of this select 
body, submitted a series of resolutions to the senate, on the 
subject of slavery, as it stood connected with our recent terri- 
torial acquisitions. The fate of these resolutions is well known. 
After a protracted debate, v/hich engrossed the senate from 
January to March, the resolutions were found to be impracti- 
cable. In substance, however, individually or collectively, they 
still continued to be discussed ; but nothing as yet had fallen 
from the lips of Mr. Webster. Privately, he had been exert- 
ing his immense personal influence, wherever he could make 
it felt, to promote the peace and harmony of the country ; but 
for weeks, while the debate was raging, the members of con- 
gress, and the whole country, were anxiously looking to see 
him rise in the breach, not to part the combatants, but to hold 
them together. No one acquainted with his former course as 
a statesman could have expected that he, who, through his 
whole career, had made the constitution and the Union the great 
topic of his life, the fundamental maxim of his entire system 
of political opinions, would rise to counsel a separation. When- 
ever he should come forth, it was moi'ally certain, in the mind 
of every sagacious man, that he would stand up as the advo- 
cate of some peace measure, of some adjustment of the diffi- 
culty, that the constitution and the Union might be prolonged. 
He had always spoken of the constitution itself as a compro- 
mise. He had frequently declared, that the union of the states, 
on the basis of our present constitution, if not grounded on the 
Utest terms possible to be conceived, which he never pretended 
to maintain, was based on the best foundation on which the 
people of all sections of the republic, east and west, north and 
south, ever were or ever would be willing to stand together. 



BASIS OF THE UNION. 407 

No union at all had been possible, at the first, but such as all parts 
of the country had been willing to enter into and maintain ; aiid it 
was equally impossible, he clearly saw, to keep up the union 
which had been formed, except on terms equally capable of 
giving satisfaction, not to any one section, but to all sections 
of^he country. If, in the beginning, it had been right, for the 
sake of a confederacy, to make certain mutual concessions of 
the various latitudes and longitudes cf the country to the other 
latitudes and longitudes, it remained right, and would remain 
right, through every period of our history. If, in particular, it 
had been right for the north to make certain concessions to the 
south, in respect to the existence and protection of slavery in 
tlie southern states, it certainly continued to be right, in fur- 
therance of the same great object, for the sake of preserving 
what in the same way had been created, to maintain and con- 
tinue these concessions. U such concessions were wrong now, 
they always had been wrong, and the union of tlie states was 
wrong, because founded on immoral or unwarrantable conces- 
sions ; and if the confederacy had been thus always wrong, 
from its very inception and foundation, everything attempted 
or achieved by it, our whole fabric of government, all our laws, 
all our institutions, and the means employed to create and for- 
tify and defend them, from the war of the revolution to the 
present moment, had been but parts and portions of the wrono-. 
If the union of the states were thus only a grand and whole- 
sale giving up of right to wrong, of ti'uth to error, of righte- 
ousness to sin, then the doctrine to be maintained, in conoress 
and out of congress, in the pulpit, by the press, by the living 
voice, by 'every agency under heaven, would be immediate, 
instantaneous, uncompromising dissolution. Such reasoning' 
would make resistiuice to law a virtue, rebellion a religious 
duty, and transform the nullifiers and disunionists of every sec- 
tion of the country, who have thus far drawn down upon their 
heads the condemnation of the wise and good of every period 



408 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECESk 

of GUI' history, into patriots, into philanthropists, into apostles 
of truth and righteousness. 

Such reasoning, however, could not stand in the mind of 
such a man as Webster. He had always been the eulogist 
and defender of the constitution and the Union. He had al- 
ways believed that the Union was the only means to the estab- 
lishment of a country, a free country, a country of free and re- 
publican institutions ; that, though the end could never justify 
the means, the means themselves had been moral and justifia- 
ble in the cii'cumstanees of the case, and under the pledges of 
the occasion ; and that, even if the north had made a poor con- 
tract, or, as he used sometimes to call it, " a losing bargam," 
it was still a bargain, a contract, a covenant, which must now 
stand in spite of all sophistry,, in spite of all fanaticism. 

Such, without any hesitation,"Tvere known to have been the 
life-long opinions of Mr. Webster ; and no one now expected 
to see him change his policy, and advocate new doctrines. 
Every American was certain that he would not let the occasion 
pass without putting forth an effort worthy of his power of 
mind, and of his exalted place in the confidence and affections 
of the people, for the peace and preservation of the republic. 
Every citizen was expecting to see him come forward with 
some plan of arrangement, or to advocate some mode of ad- 
justment, by whomsoever proposed, which should . be most 
likely, in his mind, to settle the controversy of the sections, to 
calm the excitement of the combatants, and to insure the integ- 
rity and harmony of the country. Every individual might 
have foreseen, too, and many did foresee, that he would ad- 
vance nothing new, that he would advocate no untried schemes, 
but plant himself upon the constitution as it was, and as it ever 
bad been ; and, m all these expectations, it is now well known, 
from the course he did pursue, the people, the country, the 
world suffered nothing of disappointment.* 

On Wednesday, the 6th of March, Mr. Walker, of Wiscon- 



MR. walker's eulogy. 409 

sin, commenced a speech on slavery in connection with the ter- 
ritorial question ; but he was so frequently interrupted that he 
had not concluded his remarks when he had reached the hour 
of adjournment. During that day, while Mr, Walker was 
spcakmg, it somehow was rumored in the senate, and in the 
city, that a speech would be made the next morning by Mr. 
Webster ; and when the morning arrived, the senate-chamber 
was one dense mass of citizens and strangers, below and above, 
leaving scarcely a possibility for some of the members themselves 
to find their seats, or even eligible standing-places. The wealth 
and beauty of the town were there. Almost the entire body 
of foreign ministers were there. Distinguished persons, male 
and female, from all parts of the country, and from other coun- 
tries, had collected there the moment it was understood that 
there was a probability of hearing Mr. Webster. Since the 
day of his reply to Hayne, he had not seen there so august an 
audience ; and yet, up to the moment of his entering the cham- 
ber, no annoimcement had been made, publicly or privately, of 
liis intentions. Nor is it now entirely certain that he had de- 
finitely fixed upon that day to speak ; but, however that may 
be, he had scarcely crowded his way through the dense mass 
and taken his seat, before he was laid under a sort of obligation 
to speak, whatever had been his intentions before entering the 
house. 

Precisely at twelve o'clock, the president of the senate, Mr. 
Fillmore, announced the special order of the day, remarking 
that Mr. Walker, of Wisconsin, had the floor ; and immedi- 
ately that gentleman arose in his place and replied to the chair 
m a strain that must have taken the audience, and especially 
Mr. Webster, by surprise : " Mr. President," said the senator, 
" this vast audience has not come together to hear me ; and 
there is but one man, in my opinion, who can assemble such 
an audience. They expect to hear him ; and I feel it to be my 
duty, therefore, as it is my plea-sure, to give the floor to the 



410 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

senator fi'om Massachusetts." Though surprised by this unex- 
pected eulogy, Mr. Webster was not embarrassed. Kising 
immediately, but with that slow and deliberate movement so 
peculiar to him, he returned his warmest acknowledgments to 
Mr. Walker for this unusual mark of courtesy, in yielding the 
floor before his own speech was finished, and to Mr, Seward, 
who, after Mr. Walker, would have had, by the law of custom, 
the next privilege of speaking, and then entered directly upon 
that great effort, which, for censure or for praise, will be re- 
membered as long as anything that was ever uttered from 
Ms lips. 

This speech of the 7th of March, 1850, opens with the gen- 
eral declaration, very beautifully drawn out, that the speaker 
proposes to lay aside all sectional prejudices, and take his posi- 
tion, for that time more emphatically than ever, on the broad 
platform of the general constitution. It then proceeds to give 
a history of the manner, which he condemns, by which the ter- 
ritories recently acquired, and about which the great dispute 
was now in progress, came under the jurisdiction of this gov- 
ernment. The remarkable fact is next stated, with all its his- 
torical circumstances, of the erection of a state by the people of 
California, without the knowledge or consent of congress, and 
of the adoption by them of a constitution containing the anti- 
slavery restriction. The statement of this prohibition natu- 
rally leads him to a discussion of the existence of slavery, as a 
fact in history, from the eaiiiest periods in the annals of the 
oriental nations, through the Jewish, Grecian, and Roman 
epochs, down to its establishment, by the improper indulgence 
of the mother country to her great navigators, in the colonies 
which now constitute the older states of the American confed- 
eration. The existence of such a fact, not only as a matter of 
past history, but as a thing existing in our own day and on our 
own soil, the orator next states, had caused a division of public 
opinion and public sentiment, one part of our citizens posi- 



SPEECH OF THE tTH OF MARCH. 411 

tively condemning, another part as positively upholding, the 
recognition of slavery in this republic ; but it is plain enough, 
in the very terms employed in giving a statement of this diticr- 
ence, that the speaker, in his own views and feelings, is entirely 
on the side of Uberty. He is AvLlling, however, as a candid 
man, to give those advocating the rectitude of slavery as much 
credit for honesty of opinion, as he claims for himself in giving 
it his disapproval, which candor, he thinks, has not been suffi- 
ciently exercised by liis northern fellow-citizens, any more than 
it has been exercised by his southern brethren in their imquali- 
fied jealousy and condemnation of the north. Religious bodies, 
too, he thinks, of which he presents the Methodist Episcopal 
Church as an eminent example, in her needless and unfortunate 
separation, had often been too violent, too positive, too abso- 
lute and exclusive in their discussions in relation to the subject. 
The sentiments of the north and the south, now so extravagant 
for and against the institution, had nearly changed sides since 
the adoption of the constitution, the northern states at the first 
being rather cool, if not compai'atively indifferent, whUe the 
southern states, both in congress at New York and ii:i the con- 
stitutional convention at Philadelphia, which were sitting at the 
same time when the constitution was adopted, unanimously and 
even violently regretted and condemned it. The ordinance of 
1787, which excluded slavery forever from every foot of ter- 
ritory then belonging to the United States, received the vote 
of every southern member of congress, w'hile Mr. Madison, 
sustained by all his southern colleagues in the convention, would 
not consent, though the northern members had raised no dis- 
sent, that the word slave or slavery should appear in the in- 
strument they were then constructing. The declaration of this 
same congress, that the African slave-trade should be held as 
pii'acy, the senator next shows to have been a southern meas- 
ure ; and when some northern gentleman proposed twenty 
years from that date, as the period after which this declaration 
VOL. I. R 



412 WEBSTER ANB HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

should taKe effect, the leadmg southern members opposed the 
suggestion as giving too long a license to the great political and 
public evil. It was in view of this evident state of feeling at 
the south, coming out thus authoritatively in every way in 
which it could appear, that induced the northern members of 
the convention, according to the next position of the speech, to 
agree to the recognition of a system of moral and political 
wrong, which, as all then believed, was soon to be abohshed by 
the consent and cooperation, free and spontaneous, of the south 
itself, hi this expectation, however, the north and the whole 
country had suffered a remarkable disappointment. It was 
discovered by the south, soon after the constitution went into 
operation, that cotton was to be the great staple, the great re- 
liance for prosperity and wealth, of the southern states, and 
that the cultivation of this product could not be carried on, at 
least profitably, without slaves. Southern sentiment was at once 
revolutionized; and, at the same time, or about the same time, the 
feeling of hostility to the enormity of slavery, as an institution 
now to be perpetuated in a republic based on the glorious revo- 
lutionary declaration of the absolute and perfect natural equal- 
ity of all men, began to look toward the civil liberty of every 
human being breathing the air of a professedly free countiy. 
Still, the south having had the lead of the national politics for 
three-fourths of all the time since the adoption of the constitu- 
tion, the policy of the government began at once to be a slave- 
holding policy, large acquisitions of slave territory were succes- 
sively added to our domain, new slave states were rapidly 
brought into the confederacy, and the establishment of slave 
labor at length seemed likely, in process of time, to make free 
labor an exception and a reproach throughout the country. 
Alarmed at the unexpected progress of the evil, the north had 
been daily approaching the resolution not to allow it to advance 
any further ; it had begun to remind the south of the general 
understanding, on the subject of slavery, when the constitution 



SPEECH CONTINtED. 413 

was formed and the northern states had submitted to a recooiii- 
tion of its existence, which they had supposed would be only tem- 
porary, in the southern states of the republic, hi this way, as 
Ml'. Webster next shows, the territorial strife began. The south 
at once raised the banner of acquisition, because whatever acqui- 
sitions should be made, since the republic is bounded on tlie north 
by the territory of a power able to defend it, must come to us on 
our southern border. For this purpose, the revolution of Texas 
had been encouraged, and the annexation of that republic had 
been effected, by the leading instrumentality of the south. For 
the same purpose, a war with Mexico, a republic patterned 
after our own, but weak and needy of our encouragement and 
support, had been injuriously and even clandestinely brought 
upon us, and in this way immense tracts of the earth had been 
added to our possessions on the south and west. California, 
however, had disappointed the plans of those who had been 
foremost m grasping after it, leaving only New Mexico and 
Utah, regions incapable of the curse of slavery, as subjects of 
congressional contention. The house of representatives, hap- 
pening to have a free-soil majority, threatened to fix the anti- 
slavery restriction, nevertheless, on those provinces, careless of 
the irritable condition of the south, while the senate would not 
pass the anti-slavery bills of the house, as careless of the deter- 
mination of the north. Having thus shown how, as here de- 
scribed, the crimination and recrimination of north and south 
had been revived, the speaker, after explainmg his own steady 
opposition to all the recent measures by which this state of 
things had been produced, goes into a careful examination of 
the prominent complaints of each section against the other, 
in which he finds only one valid and prominent cause, o;i 
either side, for complaint. The south had complained, that 
the north had falsified its constitutional pledges, by setting up 
an unexpected and unlawful opposition to the slavery of the 
south ; and Mr. Webster, wliile denying the charge in general, 



414 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

admits that the northern states had been too negligent in their 
engagement to return slaves escaping from their masters and 
taking shelter at the north. He maintained, on the other side, 
that the south, either wittingly or unwittingly, had disappointed 
if not deceived the north, in obtaining a constitutional recog- 
nition .of slavery in the southern states, with an engagement 
never to meddle with its existence there, by exhibiting a hos- 
tility to it, real or unreal, which had given place to a most un- 
expected, remarkable and unanimous determination to support 
it where it is, and where it was, and to extend it as far as pos- 
sible by grasping at territory adjacent to those states. Other 
complaints are mentioned and discussed, but these two, both 
on the same subject and balancing each other, are regarded as 
the ones calling especially for moderation, and charity, and 
good faith. Whether sincere or insincere, though no insincerity 
is charged, the declarations of hostility to slavery by the south, 
at the time and in the act of framing and adopting the federal 
constitution, and in the passage of the great anti-slavery ordi- 
nance of 1787, ought now, if the south expected a similar fidel- 
ity to former principles by the north, whatever change of inter- 
est may have happened in the slave-holding states, to be hon- 
estly and strictly carried out. hi like manner, if the north had 
agreed to return slaves escaping from their masters, however 
their views and feelings may have altered from that day, they 
must not now parley, nor tamper with their plighted word. 
Neither party must expect the other to be faithful, unless.it is 
willinu and readv to be itself faithful. Both must consent to 
abide by the original compact which they had made. By this 
compact, by this mutual concession, the Union had been formed 
at first. By the same compact, by the same concessions, and 
by these only, could the Union be maintained. For one, as a 
northern man, he was willing to abide by that part of the com- 
pact which bound him, and all his northern fellow-citizens, to 
return the fugitives ; and he was thus willmg, not only because 



TEMPORARY LOSS 0¥ REPUTATION. 415 

the people in framing the constitution had laid him under an 
obligation to be willing, but because he expected the south to 
be equally ready to comply with its own stipulation, and re- 
linquish its claim of extending slavery beyond its present lim- 
its, and particularly of sending it into the unsettled territories 
of the United States. 

Such, in substance, is the speech of the 7th of March, 1850 ; 
and, if it is not a sound constitutional argument, if it is not 
conciliatory, patriotic, wise and good, then it is difficult to di- 
vine what may have become of the original meaning of these 
words. It was an argument to both parties, for the sake of 
the continuance of the republic, to keep good faith and do ex- 
actly as they had agreed. It was no surrender of the soutli 
to the north, nor of the north to the south. It was a demand, 
that both south and north, for the sake of peace, for the sake of 
liberty, for the sake of free institutions, and a possible destiny 
common to them both, 'should maintain the Union in pursuance 
of the same measures by which it had been originally produced. 

It cannot be denied, however, that, for this speecli, Mr. 
Webster came near losing his position at the north. The north, 
it need not be -disguised, forgetting the many illustrious services 
of this great man for a space of more than forty years, by 
which he had laid the whole country under obligations of grat- 
itude which a score of generations will not be able to repay, 
and by which he had spread the honor and fame and glory of 
his native land over the face of the civilized and reading world, 
seemed at one time to be on the point of committing the folly, 
to call it by no harsher name, of canceling a life-time- of noble 
and patriotic deeds, by what, at the worst, could be regarded 
as only one mistake. Some, it is true, accused him of having 
given this healing counsel, of taking his position as an Ameri- 
can, on the broad platform of the constitution, not because, as 
was undenialily the fact, he had never stood a moment on any 
narrower foundation, but because he was aspiring to the highest 



416 WEBSTER AND IIlS MASTER-PIECES. 

office under the constitution. The shallowness is the only ele- 
ment that exceeds the uneharitableness of this change. Did 
not Mr. Webster know that, in taking even his old position at 
this particular time, he was running the risk of losing the 
whole north, while the south would never support the man 
who, in that very congress, had declared that he never could 
consent to the extension of American slavery one foot beyond 
the limits it then occupied"? Was that great man, whose 
sagacity and breadth of vision had been the boast and admi- 
ration of his countrymen for nearly half a century, all at once 
so blind as not to see, a moment before the speech, what 
every scribbler, and paragraphist, and country newspaper critic 
saw, as with a sunbeam, the moment after it 1 There is no 
room for speculation upon this subject. Mr. Webster is for- 
tunate in having so expressed himself before the delivery of 
the speech, as to leave no doubt upon it. Without trying to 
seek supporters at the north, and conscious of the hazard he 
was about to make, he stated to a friend, some time before the 
7th of March, " that he had made up liis mind to embark 
alone on what he was aware would prove a stormy sea, be- 
cause, in that case, should final disaster ensue, there would be 
but one life lost." He saw his danger certainly ; but he saw 
what seemed to be his duty, also ; and that duty he resolved 
to do, for the sake of his cherished country, without respect to 
personal considerations. 

This one speech, however, has received more attention, com- 
paratively, than ought to have been given to it by those of his 
opponents, who wish to be looked upon as candid. There are 
several other speeches, made during the continuance of this 
great debate, which seem to have been uncharitably or care- 
lessly overlooked. The accusation against Mr. Webster was 
that, in a crisis of liberty, he yielded too much to slavery. 
Passing off from the speech of the 7th of March, in which it 
will be difficult for posterity, it is imagined, to find any un- 



OTHER SPEECHES OVERLOOKED. 417 

constitutional concessions to the slave interest, it may be asked 
■whether, in his other addresses at this time, he did nothing for 
the cause of freedom. Was it nothing, that he opposed the 
plausible claim set up by Texas, to the best portions of New 
Mexico, because Texas wished to convert them to the purposes 
of slavery 1 Was it nothing that he advocated, more ably and 
feelingly than any other senator, the immediate receptioh of 
California, when the whole south was arrayed against it on 
account of her anti-slavery constitution ? Was it nothing that 
he rebuked the whole south, openly and plainly, in the midst 
of his supposed projects of ambition, for the treatment it was 
accustomed to extend to free colored persons going to the 
southern states on lawful business ? Was it nothing that he 
repeated his determination, over and over, never to consent to 
the extension of slavery on this continent, and repeated it so 
often that the southern members accused him, as the first step 
to his new scheme of ambition, of having made this his hobby 1 
Tlie truth is, however, and it is more apparent as one 
reads more and more of Mr. Webster's speeches deliv- 
ered at this time, that he had no hobby, no scheme, no am- 
bition, but the single and unchanged and noble one of being 
the champion and defender of the Union and the constitution, 
and of the constitution for the sake of mamtaining and perpet- 
uating the integrity of the Union. When all party feeling 
shall have subsided, and the excitement of that day shall be 
forgotten, the speech of the 7th of !March, and his various 
speeches of that congress, on the boundaries of Texas, on the 
public lands and boundaries of California, and on the compro- 
mise measures generally, will be re-read and revised by the 
cooler judgment of posterity, when they will be thought to 
constitute his best title, the circumstjuices being all considered, 
to the respect and affection of his countrymen. His vote for 
the fugitive slave bill will not then be charged as a proof of 
political ambition. It v/ill be believed that, though he finally 



418 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER -PIECES. 

lent that vote to a mode of reclaiining the runaway slave, 
which gives too little succor to the down-trodden fugitive, and 
too much to the greedy, and often unscrupulous and imperious 
master, he did so for no purposes of his own, but for the best 
good, as he understood it, of -his country. It will be remem- 
bered, too. that the bill which became a law was not his oAvn 
bill ; " but that he offered a bill, in which there was distinct pro- 
vision that, on being claimed as a fugitive, the man of color 
might swear himself free, against the oath even of his claim- 
ant, and that this oath of his should entitle him to the right of 
having the claim tried by jury. It will be remembered that 
he gave up his own views only when he saw the impossibility of 
settling the difficulties, of preserving the harmony of the states, 
and, as he thought, of saving the republic, on that basis. 

Then, in that period of calm reading and calm reflection, when 
these things are all remembered, and are all candidly considered, 
the posterity that shall then occupy his adopted state, his cherished 
Massachusetts, whose name he has made so illustrious, will re- 
gret that the still surviving temple of their freedom, the Cra^ 
die of Liberty, where his voice so often rang with an order of 
eloquence to which they may never have the happiness to listen, 
and which gave to that temple, over the continent and over the 
world, the greater part of its celebrity, was, at this ungrateful 
period, barred and shut against him. iThen, if history has any 
power to mount the watch-tower of philosophy, and foresee 
coming events, and unless all present signs are sinister, the time 
will come, the angry passions of the past having been all hushed 
in death, and only what is true having been preserved in his- 
tory, when there will be no name more honored, even for the 
acts now condemned, than that of Daniel Webster ; and when 
his country will regret that some of the last days of one of 
the most illustrious of her sons were clouded by the miscon- 
ception or ingratitude of those, for whose sake, and for the 
sake of whose best earthly welfare, he staked all that he had 



I 



POSTERITY WILL DO HIM JUSTICE. 419 

gained in the past, and all that he could have hoped for from 
the future. 

Then, too, it will be set down and considered as a 
sufficient and concluding fact, that, in behalf of his constituents 
and of the whole country, he made this great sacrifice of his 
personal feelings, bound to it, as he felt himself^ by the pledges 
of the constitution, because he regarded the measures then in 
debate, and then about to be enacted mto laws, as the final and 
perpetual settlement of the slavery agitation, not, indeed, as a 
moral or even political question for the states, as states, or for 
citizens as citizens, or for citizens as philanthropists and chris- 
tians, but as a topic of discussion and discord in congress ; that 
in this responsible step, he rehed implicitly on the promises of 
every southern member of both houses, and of the leading 
members of the democratic party of the north, who pledged 
their faith that this should forever stand as the last and unal- 
terable adjustment of the sul)ject of slavery as a matter of con- 
gressional interference, debate or action ; that, accordmg to his 
understanding, the arrangement thus entered into, "fixed, pledged, 
fastened, decided," to use his own strong terms, the whole ques- 
tion, leaving not " a single loot of land, the character of which, 
in regard to its being free territory or slave territory, is not 
fixed by some law, and some irrepealable law, beyond the power 
of the action of the government ; " that it would thereafl;er for- 
ever be impossible, without such a breach of faith as neither 
north nor south had ever committed, or would ever venture to 
commit, to raise in congress a question respecting the charac^ 
ter, in this respect, of a single inch of territory belonging to the 
United States, every concession of the constitution and of the 
laws and arrangements under it, from the compromise of ISIis- 
souri to that of New ^Mexico and California, being now set 
down and acknowledged to be as unchangeable as the constitu- 
tion itself; and that thus, with the result and remunerative ele- 
ment of this final compromise in view, on which, for the peace 
VOL. I. K* 27 






420 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of the country, he staked and yielded every personal interest 
and consideration, he did his part toward the harmony 
and perpetuity of the republic. And now, if, in this act of con- 
fidence, in this trust in pledged honor and plighted faith, the 
country has been disappointed, at a time when his powerful 
voice could not be raised, as it certainly would have been 
raised, against the most recent and the most ignominious in- 
stance of modern perfidy, posterity certainly will award, and 
the present generation should award, not the dishonor of the 
breach, but the glory of the act of settlement, to the political 
consistency, the unbending integrity, the magnanimous spirit, 
and the unbounded influence of Daniel Webster 



CHAPTEK XII. 

CLOSING PERIOD OF HIS LIFE. 

During the progress of the great debate, and almost to the 
very last of it, there appeared in the senate chamber, when- 
ever the weather would permit, a member of that body, whom 
disease was gradually and silently preying upon and fitting for 
his final resting-place in an honored grave. That member was 
the honorable John Caldwell Calhoun, the lonor-tried and lono-. 
trusted representative of South Carolina, and the able and elo- 
quent champion of the entire south. On the 4th of March, 
1850, he took his seat among his brethren of the senate, hopino- 
to be able to address them, probably for the last time, on the 
important matters then under consideration ; but his strength 
failing him, his speech, which he had carefully written out, was 
read to the senate by his friend, Mr. Mason, senator from Vir- 
ginia. On the 7th of March following, he was again in his seat, 
but evidently more wasted and weak than ever, for the purpose 
of listening to the speech of the senator from Massachusetts, 
whom the South Carolina senator had just declared, in the con- 
fidence of private friendship, and while resting upon that bed 
on which he expected soon to close his eyes, to be as honest 
and honorable a statesman as he had ever known in all his ex- 
perience and observation among the most distinguished citizens 
of the country. It was on that day, and in that speech, that 
Mr. Webster pronounced that brief eulogy on his illustrious 
antagonist, which, in sulistance, was a voluntary tribute to Mr. 
Calhoun's openness and integrity of character, a tribute seen 
and felt at the time to be characteristically happy in a speech 



422 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of compromise and conciliation. On the 31st of March, Mr. 
Calhoun breathed his last, at his ov.ti lodgings in Waslungton, 
near to his post of duty, surrounded by his friends and near 
relatives ; and on the next day his decease was announced in 
the senate by his colleague, Mr. Butler, when, among other 
speakers, Mr. Webster again stood up to bear willmg and 
beautiful testimony to the high merit of the departed. 

The place lefl vacant by this lamented death was supplied 
by the appointment of Franklin II. Elmore, Avho, for several 
years, had been a member of the house of representatives ; but, 
on the 29 th of May, in less than two months from the day of 
Mr. Calhoun's decease, the new senator was struck down by 
the hand of death, and Mr. Webster was again called upon to 
speak to the senate on the afflictive dispensation. Mr. Web- 
ster had known Llr. Elmore from the time of his coming mto 
the lower house ; and, during his tour to the south, he had been 
indebted to him for personal attentions, which had made a last- 
ing impression on his heart. He now repays the debt, so far 
as words can do it, by a short but exceedingly appropriate ad- 
dress over the memory of his friend. 

In this department of oratory, in fact, Mr. Webster has 
never had his equal on this contment. He always knew, 
not only exactly what to say, but exactly what not to say. 
He was most happy in seizing hold of the striking intellectual 
traits, and the most characteristic virtues, of those whom he 
was thus called to mourn. His quotations, on such occasions, 
as well as his references to liistorical personages of comparable 
traits and talents, have long been celebrated in this country, 
and in other countries. It was remarkable, too, that, while his 
funeral orations always gave the highest satisfaction to those 
most deeply interested, he never praised too much, nor in any 
way exceeded the severest demands and proprieties of an occa- 
sion. All these excellencies of speech had been exemplified in 
his tributes to Joseph Story and Jeremiah Mason ; and they 



DEATH OF PRESIDENT TAYLOR. 423 

were now again exemplified in liis eulogies of the two senators 
from South Carolina, 

Soon, however, afflictive as these deaths had been, another 
death occurred, which, from the exalted position as well as the 
personal merits of the subject, was to be felt, and was felt, to 
the extremities of the republic. On the 9th of July, 1850, at 
half-past ten o'cloclc, Zachary Taylor, president of the United 
States, died suddenly, after an illness of only a few days. 
Early in that day, while Mr. Butler was addressing the senate, 
Mr. Webster, by leave of Mr. Butler, rose and announced to 
the senate the extreme illness of the president, whereupon the 
senate immediately adjourned ; and on the morning of the next 
day, a communication addressed by Mr. Fillmore to both 
houses of congress was read, wliich brought to the senate the 
first official intelligence of the heavy bereavement of the 
nation. 

The first duty of congress, of course, was to attend to the 
swearing in of Mr. Fillmore as acting president of the United 
States; and accordingly, immediately after- the reading of the 
communication from the vice-president, Mr. Webster rose and 
read to the senate the following resolutions : " Resolved, That 
the two houses wUl assemble this day in the hall of the house 
of representatives, at twelve o'clock, to be present at the ad- 
ministration of the oath prescribed by the constitution to the 
late vice-president of the United States, to enable him to dis- 
charge the powers and duties of the office of president of the 
United States, devolved on him by the death of Zachary Tay- 
lor, late president of the United States. Resolved, That the 
secretary of the senate present the above resolution to the 
house of representatives and ask its concurrence therein." 

This necessary duty having been thus discharged, Mr. 
Downs, senator from Louisiana, addressed the senate in a very 
touching manner, respecting the mournful event of the day, and 
concluded by offering a series of appropriate resolutions the 



424 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

second of which constituted Mr. Webster, Mr. Cass, and Mr. 
King, a committee, on the part of the senate, to be associated 
with a similar committee on the part of the house, for the pur- 
pose of mal<:ing suitable arrangements for the funeral and 
burial of the departed president, whereupon Mr. Webster im- 
mediately arose in his place and delivered a eulogy, which, con- 
sidering what he had felt bound to say, respecting the nomina- 
tion of General Taylor, was a task not to be happily performed 
by any person, under such circumstances, of less genius and 
tact than Daniel Webster. It is almost needless to say, how- 
ever, that, as usual under all circumstances, the orator entered 
as directly upon his subject, and passed as easily and eloquently 
through it, as if there were no difficulties in it. Without re- 
calling anything he had said before, and of course without sup- 
porting his former statements, he found enough in the life and 
character of the able commander, the good citizen, and the 
honest president to supply, and more than supply, all the re- 
quirements of the occasion ; and there are passages in that 
brief speech worthy to be remembered as giving a genuine 
likeness of him, who, till this day, has no better or more desi- 
rable memorial : " I suppose, sir," says the speaker, " that no 
case ever happened, in the very best days of the Roman re- 
public, when a man found himself clothed with the highest au- 
thority in the state, under circumstances more repellmg all 
suspicion of personal application, of pursuing any ci'ooked paths 
in politics, or of having been actuated by sinister views and 
purposes, than in the case of the worthy, and eminent, and good 
man whose death we now deplore. 

" His service through life was mostly on the frontier, and 
always a hard service, often in combat with the tribes of In- 
dians along the frontier for so many thousands of miles. It 
has been justly remarked, by one of the most eloquent men 
whose voice was ever heard in these houses, that it is not in 
Indian wars that heroes are celebrated, but that it is there that 



EULOGY ON GEJTERAL TAYLOR. 425 

they are formed. The hard service, the stern discipline, de- 
volving upon all those who have a great extent of frontier to 
defend, often, with irregular troops, being called on suddenly 
to enter into contests with savages, to study the habits of sav- 
age life and savage war, in order to foresee and overcome their 
stratagems, all these things tend to make hardy military 
character. 

" For a very short time, sir, I had a connection with the ex- 
ecutive government of this country ; and at that time very per- 
ilous and embarrassing circumstances existed between the Uni- 
ted States and the hidians on the borders, and war was actu- 
ally carried on between the United States and the Florida 
tribes. I very well remember that those \\4io took coimsel 
together on that occasion officially, and who were desirous of 
placing the military command ui the safest hands, came to the 
conclusion, that there was no man in the service more fully 
unituig the qualities of military ability and great personal pru- 
dence thaii Zachary Taylor ; and he was appointed to the 
command, 

" Unfortunately his career at the head of this government 
•was short. For my part, in all that I have seen of him, I have 
found much to respect and nothing to condemn. The circum- 
stances under which he conducted the government, for the short 
tune he was at the head of it, have been such as not to give 
him a very favorable opportunity of developing his principles 
and his policy, and carrying them out; but I believe he has 
left on the minds of the country a strong impression, first, of 
his absolute honesty and integrity of character ; next, of his 
sound, practical good-sense ; and, lastly, of the mildness, kind- 
ness, and fi-iendliness of his temper toward all his country- 
men. 

" But he is gone. He is ours no more, except in the force of 
his example. Sir, I heard with infinite delight the sentiments 
expressed by my honorable fi-iend from Louisiana, who has just 



42G WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

resumed his seat, when he earnestly prayed that tliis event 
might be used to soften the animosities, to allay party crimi- 
nations and recriminations, and to restore fellowship and good 
feeling among the various sections of the Union. Mr. Secre- 
tary, great as is our loss to-day, if these inestimable and inap- 
preciable blessings shall have been secured to us even by the 
death of Zachary Taylor, they have not been purchased at too 
high a price ; and if his spirit, from the regions to which he 
has ascended, could see these results from his unexpected and 
untimely end, if he could see that he had entwined a soldier's 
laurel around a martyr's crown, he would say exultingly, 
'Happy am I, that by my death I have done more for that 
country which I loved and served, than I did or could do by 
all the devotion and all the efforts that I could make in her be- 
half during the short span of my earthly existence ! ' " 

When the last solemn respects had been paid to the remains 
and memory of the departed president, the discussion of the 
compromise measures was again resumed ; and it was at this 
time, aiid on this subject, following Mr. Butler, of South Caro- 
lina, that Mr. Webster delivered his last speech, and uttered 
his last word, in the senate of the United States, where he had 
been so long the acknowledged head among its orators and 
statesmen. It was delivered on the 17th of July, 1850; and 
it was immediately issued in pamphlet, in which form it was 
extensively circulated and read in every section of the Union. 
It was a very able effort, the title-page itself bearmg sufficient 
proof, that the production was from no common man. His 
tact at makmg historical and poetical quotations has been, as 
before seen, greatly celebrated ; but there is perhaps no exam- 
ple in all his writings, of a perfectly apposite quotation, sur- 
passing that employed as the motto of this address. He had 
been misunderstood, misrepresented, slandered, abused, at home 
in Massachusetts, and in every northern state, for having yielded 
too much, and that for ambitious purposes, in the great contro- 



LAST SPEECH IN THE SENATE. 427 

versy still raging ; and it was thouglit by many, and expressed 
by some, that the end of all these Union-saving measures would 
be, or might be, a dissolution of the Union. Prophesies of na- 
tional disaster, and threats of a personal character, had been 
freely lavished by the northern press upon Mr. Webster ; but 
he had stood erect, and firm, and immovable, conscious of 
no motive for his conduct but that of being usefiil to his comi- 
try ; and now, in sending to the world his concluding effort for 
the peace and harmony of the states, he calls attention to an 
illustrious crisis in English history, where a similar spirit of 
conciliation had saved the kingdom, by quoting the memora- 
ble words of Burke : "Alas! alas! when will this speculating 
against fact and reason end 1 What will quiet these passive 
fears which we entertain of the hostile effect of a conciliatory 
conduct '? Is all autliority of course lost, when it is not pushed 
to the extreme 1 All these objections being in fact no more 
than suspicions, conjectures, divinations, formed in defiance of 
fact and experience, they did not discourage me fi'om entertain- 
ing the idea of conciliatory concession, founded on the princi- 
ples which I have stated." What could have been more to 
Mr. Webster's purpose 1 It would almost seem, when the 
fects in both cases are closely compared, and when the lan- 
guage of the English statesman is compared with what the 
American statesman might have hoped that some such great 
authority had sometime said, that the event and the comment 
had both occurred expressly for the benefit and use, at this par- 
ticular crisis, of Mr. Webster. All history, and the entire 
range of literature, could scarcely have furnished so apt a pas- 
sage, which, probably, occurred to the mind of the great man 
the moment he had decided to fix a motto to his performance. 
Such was the compass of his reasoning, and such the prompt- 
ness of his intellectual iaculties, till the very closing period and 
last days of Ws existence ! 

Having given, on a former page, the first words uttered by 



428 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

Mr. Webster in the congress of the United States, the period 
has now come when his last words can be here recorded ; and 
it will be evident that they are words worthy, not only of pe- 
rusal, and of simple recollection, but of being written and en- 
graved on the most durable material, in diaracters to be read 
by all his countrymen, and especially by those who have inno- 
cently misunderstood him. After having finished the argu- 
ment ui the case, in which he had shown that the compromises 
proposed to be made, between the north and the south, were 
legitimate subjects of compromise, and that, as matters of pub- 
lic interest, they were not all on either side, but were such as 
very fairly and equally balanced each other, he brings the sen- 
ate to a final decision by asking what is to be done, and then 
telluig them plainly what he shall do, whatever course may be 
pursued by others : " And now, Mr. President, to return at 
last to the principal and important question before us. What 
are we to do ? How are we to bring this emergent and press- 
ing question to an issue and an end 1 Here have we been 
.seven and a half months, disputing about points which, in my 
judgment, are of no practical importance to one or the other 
part of the country. Are we to dwell forever upon a single 
topic, a single idea 1 Are we to forget all the purposes for 
which governments are instituted, and continue everlastingly 
to dispute about that which is of no essential consequence 1 I 
think, sir, the country calls upon us loudly and imperatively to 
settle this question. I think that the whole woi'ld is looking to see 
whether tiiis great popular government can get through such a 
crisis. We are the observed of all observers. It is not to be 
disputed or doubted, tJiat the eyes of all Christendom are upon 
us. We have stood through many trials. Can we not stand 
through this, which takes so much the character of a sectional 
controversy 1 Can we stand that ? There is no inquiring man 
in all Europe who does not ask himself that question every 
day, when he reads the intelligence of the morning. Can this 



LAST SPEECH CONTINUED, 429 

country, with one set of interests at the south, and another set 
of interests at the north, and these interests supposed, but 
falsely supposed, to be at variance ; can this people see what is 
so evident to the whole world beside, that this Union is their 
main hope and greatest benefit, and that their interests in every 
part are entirely compatible ? Can they see, and will they 
feel, that theu* prosperity, their respectability among the na- 
tions of the earth, and their happiness at home, depend upon 
the maintenance of their Union and their constitution ? That 
is the question. I agree that local divisions are apt to warp 
the understandings of men, and to excite a belligerent feeling 
between section and section. It is natural, in times of irrita- 
tion, for one part of the country to say. If you do that, I wiU 
do this, and so get up a feeling of hostility and defiance. Tlieu 
comes belligerent legislation, and then an appeal to arms. The 
question is, whether we have the true patriotism, the Ameri- 
canism, necessary to carry us through such a trial. The whole 
world is looking toward us with extreme anxiety. F^t my- 
self, I propose, sir, to abide by the principles and the purposes 
which I have avowed. I shall stand by the Union, and by all 
who stand by it. I shall do justice to the whole country, ac- 
cording to the best of my ability, in all I say, and act for the 
good of the whole country in all I do. I mean to stand upon 
the constitution. I need no other platform. I shall know but 
one country. The ends I aim at shall be my country's, 
my God's, and truth's, I was born an American; I will live 
an American ; I shall die an American ; and I intend to per- 
form the duties incumbent upon me in that character to the 
end of my career. I mean to do this, with absolute disregard 
of personal consequences. What are personal consequences 1 
"What is the indivadujil man, with all the good or exnl that may 
betide him, in comparison with the good or evil which may 
befall a great country in a crisis like this, and in the midst of 
great transactions wliieh concern that country's fate ? Let the 



430 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

consequences be what they will, I am careless. No man can 
suifer too much, and no man can fall too soon, if he suffer or 
if he fall in defence of the liberties and constitution of his 
country." 

The death of General Taylor, and the unexpected as well as 
needless if not factious resignation of his cabinet, threw upon 
Mr. Fillmore, suddenly and at an evil time, the task always 
difficult, even under circumstances the most favorable for de- 
liberation, of nommating a new cabmet. It is not to be doubted, 
that Mr. Fillmore would have chosen to have the former mem- 
bers hold office, at least till he could find time, after being thus 
called upon to assume the reins of government, to look care- 
fully into a duty, which, from the nature of the case, could 
never have formed with hhii the subject of a moment's con- 
templation. It is vmderstood, too, that he gave utterance of 
his desires to this effect ; but, even if that were so, no heed was 
given to his wishes. In a day, in an hour, he was compelled 
to appQint all his ministers, or leave the departments of gov- 
ernment without their proper officers. Thus forced to act, and 
to act at a time when a mistake would have proved fatal to his 
admunstration, and perhaps fatal to the existence of the repub- 
lic, he laid his commands upon a statesman, for the first posi- 
tion in his cabinet, whose views corresponded very exactly with 
his own, and who, for nearly forty years, had shown himself to 
be, not only superior to the most distinguished of his country- 
men, but equal to any demand that had ever been made upon 
him. That man, it need not be said, was Daniel Webster. 
With his assistance, and guided by the conscious integrity of 
his own honest heart, ]\Ir. Fillmore commenced an administra- 
tion, which, for the fundamental and serious difficulties sur- 
rovmding it, bears no comparison with the most difficult of 
former administrations, and which would suffer nothing by 
a comparison, for honesty and uprightness, with the most 
illustrious. 



COMMENDATOitT LETTERS. 431 

Both before and immediately after going into Mr. Fillmore'a 
cabinet, Mr. Webster received from all parts of the country, 
m the midst of all the opprobrium and opposition encountered 
by him, as many tokens of continued confidence, as he had ever 
received in any equal period of his life. Letters of approval, 
of commendation, of eulogy, came to him from all sections of 
the country, but mostly from the north. Men of the first dis- 
tinction, and even members of the democratic party, who had 
never before felt compelled to do him justice, as well as hun- 
dreds of his fellow-citizens of New England, and among them 
his old friends and neighbors of New Hampshire and Massa- 
chusets, now wrote to him m terms of praise which caused him 
to shed tears of gratitude for the kindness and truthfulness man- 
ifested toward him. From the Hon. Thomas H. Perkins, the 
philanthropist of Boston, from the Hon. Isaac Hill, the well- 
known democratic governor of New Hampshire, from a large 
number of citizens of Newburyport, Massachusetts, from an 
equal or a larger number of the citizens of Medford, of the 
same state, from R. II. Gardiner, Esq., in behalf of the inhab- 
itants living along the banks of the Kennebec river, from the 
Rev. Ebenezer Price, who addressed him on the part of Mr. 
Webster's old neighbors in New Hampshire, from various 
persons of the first consideration living throughout the middle 
states, from George Griswold, Esq., who conveyed to him an 
invitation to visit the city of New York, signed by more than 
five thousand of the leading citizens of the great commercial, 
metropolis, as well as from numerous other sources, letters 
came flying to him, with almost every post for months, bear- 
ing to him the most cordial approbation of his course. Never, 
perhaps, at any moment of his life, did he receive so many and 
so substantial proofs of the estimation in which he was held by 
the first men of the republic ; and never, it may be, consider- 
ing the abuse falling upon him from other quarters, did he ever 
rely so serenely on a quiet consciousness of having done hia 



432 WEBSTER AKD HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

duty, or with a firmer reliance on the final justice which he 'be- 
lieved would ultimately be done him, than at the moment 
when he completed his career as a member of the American 
congress, and entered upon his duties, which he must have 
sometimes felt might not be of long continuance, as the first 
cabinet officer of Mr. Fillmore's administration. The great 
crisis, indeed, in respect to his reputation, had now passed. 
The country had had time to judge him, not by his 7th of 
March speech alone, but by a candid and full perusal of all his 
speeches, those of 1850, as well as all others relating to the 
same general subject. The scale of judgment was now turn- 
ing in his favor ; and he found himself, after his first general 
misunderstanding with his constituents, rapidly rising to ^s 
original position with them, with a fair prospect, not now to be 
disappointed, of reaching an eminence among them as much 
higher than he would have held, as his sacrifices for the har- 
mony and prosperity of the country had been more than com- 
monly misunderstood and misrepresented by them : 

'"Tis strange how many unimagiued charges 
Can swarm upon a man, when once the lid 
Of the Pandora box of contumely 
Is opened o'er his head." 

But, as the immortal dramatist has elsewhere said, 

"Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." 

And a poet of milder genius, but of deep experience, has 
added a concluding sentiment, which, in tliis case, may be re- 
garded in the light of a prediction : 



" Heaven but tries our virtue by afSicttons ; 
As oft the cloud that wraps the present hour, 
Serves but to lighten all our future days." 



BOUNDARIES OF TEXAS. 433 

On entering the second time the department of state, Mr. 
Webster had no great amoimt of labor to perform in lookmg 
up the condition of our relations to other countries. All these 
relations he understood as well as any other citizen of the 
country ; and his predecessor had left no chronic difficulties, 
such as the secretary had foimd in the department when in 
office under Mr, Tyler, to embarrass him in the discharge of 
his regular duties. The controversy between New Mexico and 
Texas, in respect to boundary, which Mr, Webster had urged 
congress to settle by legislation, was still pending ; and he had 
scarcely taken possession of his department, when his attention 
was called to a letter from the Hon. P. H. Bell, governor of 
Texas, to President Taylor, asking information in relation to 
the nature and limits of the military authority, which, by the 
advice and direction of General Taylor, had been extended over 
that part of New Mexico claimed by Texas, Had Mr. Web- 
ster's advice as a senator been followed, such a question could 
not have existed ; but, it being now on hand, he addresses him- 
self to it with his customary candor and ability. He takes the 
ground that the authority set up' over New Mexico was mili- 
tary, because that province came into our possession by mili- 
tary conquest ; that it would contmue, of course, only so long 
as New Mexico should contmue to be without a form of gov- 
ernment authorized by congress ; and that, until such a gov- 
ernment should be established, the question of boundaries be- 
tween the province and the state would remain unchanged, so 
far as anything done or to be done either by Texas or New 
Mexico could be supposed to affect the subject. The author- 
ity now exercised in New Mexico would be maintained ; but 
in relation to the question of boundary, which was a question 
for congress to decide, the president had no duty and conse- 
quently no concern. 

On the 30th of September, 1850, the Chevalier J, G, Hiilse- 
mann, charge d'affaires of his majesty, the emperor of Austria, 



434 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

addressed an official note to the secretary of state of the Uiiited 
States, remonstrating, in the name of his government, against 
the mission of Mr. Dudley ]\Iann, who, at the time of the Hun- 
garian revolution, had been despatched by the American presi- 
dent to proceed to Austria for the purpose of obtaining and re- 
mitting to Washington authentic and reliable information, from 
time to time, in relation to that interesting struggle. Mr. 
Mann had been so prudent in his movements, while residing 
and traveling in Austria, that the first intelligence of his hav- 
ing been there at all was received by the imperial government 
fi'om a message of the American president to his congress. 
This fact alone should have been sufficient proof, even to Aus- 
tria, as it must have been to all other governments, that no- 
thing injurious had been done to the authority of the emperor 
in his dominions ; but the object of that mission, the seeking 
of information with a view to an early recognition of Hunga- 
rian independence, especially when honestly avowed by Mr. 
Fillmore, roused the ire of the imperial Francis Joseph, who, 
like a youthful Hotspur as he was, demanded an immediate 
acknowledgment, on our part, with something like a guaranty 
of better behavior for the future. Not only was the topic of 
the note of the charge ridiculous, but the style of it was almost 
silly ; and the whole demand, both as to matter and manner, 
only excited the risibilities of Mr. Webster. 

His answer has been ascribed, at least in the gossip of the 
day, to Mr. Everett ; the newspapers, in fact, have published a 
claim as set up by that gentleman to the authorsliip of tliis per- 
formance ; but, if there is not a plain mistake somewhere, there 
is certainly no sufficient proof of any such paternity, or of any 
just claim to it; while the flict of its having been for four years 
universally ascribed to Mr. Webster, and even lauded by Mr. 
Everett as one of ^Ir. Webster's most happy efforts, leaves no 
great reason to doubt upon tliis subject. Were it even true, 
that Mr. Webster was ill at the time the letter to Mr. Hiilse- 



REPLY TO HULSEMANK. 435 

mann was composed ; that Mr. Everett may have been em- 
ployed by IMr, Webster to write out a draft of it ; and that 
that draft, in INfr. Everett's own hand, is still extant — all this 
would do but little toward confirming the authorship to Mr. 
Everett. Let it be granted, indeed, that the American secre- 
tary, sick at home, availed himself of the help of his distm- 
guished friend ; that he talked over the subject, as he was cer- 
tainly able and would scarcely fail to do, item by item, with 
him ; and that those items, thus matured, were then actually 
WTitten down by him, to be afterwards revised and corrected, 
as is known to be the fact, by Mr. Webster. If all this ser- 
vice, and a great deal more, would transfer authorship from 
the original mind to an assistant, however distinguished that 
assistant might be himself for talents, the world would at once 
have to make out a new list of authors, which would dispossess 
the greatest geniuses of all times of the titles by which they 
have held their fame. Shakspeare, by such a canon, would 
cease to be Shakspeare ; and, by the same rule, Paradise Lost 
would be set down as written, not by Milton, but by Milton's 
daughters. But there is no room even for such a supposition, 
nor for such an argument. " The correspondence Anth the 
Austrian charge d'affaires," says Mr. Everett, in his brief but 
summary biography of Mr. Webster, " is the worthy comple- 
, ment, after an interval of a quarter of a century, to the pro- 
found discussion of international politics contained in the speech 
of January, 1824, on the revolution of Greece, and that of 1826, 
on the congress of Panama." This is Mr. Everett's eulogium 
on the letter ; and he certainly could have uttered no higher 
one, as he well knew, than to compare it with either of the two 
illustrious speeches, which, for everything constituting master- 
pieces, have been but seldom equaled even by Mr. Webster ; 
nor is it at all supposable, that such a citizen as Edward Eve- 
rett, hitherto so disingenuous in all his conduct, at least so 
praised for every noble trait of chaiacter, would stoop so low 
VOL. I. S 28 



436 ■WEnSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

as to claim another man's work, or load with eulogy an effort 
of his own. 

This reply to Hiilsemann, therefore, whatever may have been 
the circumstances of its composition, must now go clown to fu- 
ture generations, as the work, the undoi^bted work, in every 
respect really affecting authorship, of Mr, Webster ; and it is 
undeniably, in every way, though not the ablest of his perform- 
ances, a production worthy of his genius. It was at once 
gi-eatly celebrated. Not only by the newspapers of the day, 
but by several historical and authentic publications, the Amer- 
ican public had just been put in possession of very perfect in- 
formation in respect to the origin, progress, and results of the 
Hungarian revolution ; and, on the appearance of the secreta- 
ry's answer, they were well prepared to understand its argu- 
ments and its allusions, whose point would otherwise have been 
lost upon them. His main position, that the emperor of Austria 
had no right to complain of this govd^'ument for being friendly 
to struggles similar to that by which we had established the 
liberty and happiness of this country, was as conclusive as it 
was patriotic ; and his retort, that the very complaint, founded 
on an avowal of the American president to Ws own congi-ess, 
of an unjustifiable interference on our part with the internal 
affairs of a foreign government, was itself just such an act of 
improper interference, though obvious enough, was of a charac- 
ter to give infinite delight to the masses of our peoj^e ; but 
when they read those passages, in which the secretary magni- 
fies his native land, " in comparison with which the possessions 
of the house of Hapsburg are but as a patch on the earth's sur- 
face," which, consequently, could not dream of deterring "either 
the government or the people of the United States from exer- 
cising, at their own discretion, the rights belonging to them as 
an independent nation, and of forming and expressing their 
own opinions, fi*eely and at all times," their enthusiasm over- 
passed all ordinary bounds. The whole communication, in 



EXTENSION OF THE CAPITOL, 437 

fact, though not to be compared with the secretary's letter to 
Lord Ashburton on impressment, and to several other of his 
productions, carried in it the elements of very great popular- 
ity, and rose immediately to an extraordinary celebrity, both 
in this country and in Europe. It was translated into the Ger- 
man language ; and thousands of copies of it are said to have 
been surreptitiously circulated even in the Austrian dominions. 
In this country, it is really humiliating to add, this simple com- 
munication, to which Mr. Webster could have attached no 
great importance, which was the production of a playfLil mo- 
ment, and which cost him not half the labor of thought be- 
stowed on some individual pages of his acknowledged master- 
pieces, was seized upon by superficial people, prior to the suc- 
ceeding presidential nomination, as a chief reason for making 
him the next president of the republic ! An office which had 
not been gained by a long life of services the most illustrious, 
but which could be won or offered on terms so cheap and by 
merit so comparatively shallow, could scarcely be coveted by 
any high-minded man, and would certainly be beneath the dig- 
nity of such a citizen as Daniel Webster ! A people, who 
could make the choice of their fii'st magistrate rest on such a 
basis, on the writing of a letter, would be on a par with the 
nation that should suspend the same interest on the fortune of a 
battle, and, in either case, would not fail to meet the curse of be- 
ing ruled by the most unworthy and inferior of their number ! 
For several years preceding these events, in consequence 
of the great extension of our country, the capitol at Wash- 
ington had been felt by congress, and by all visitors, to 
be too small for the purposes of so great a nation ; and, conse- 
quently, on the 30th of September, 1850, an act was passed 
by both houses, making provision for the enlargement of tho 
edifice according to such plan as might receive the approval of 
the president. The work was to be undertaken and carried on 
under his direction ; and, therefore, early in his admmistration, 



438 WEBSTKR AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

I 

Mr. Fillmore employed an architect, approved of a plan, and 
made every suitable preparation for commencing operations 
during the spring or summer of the following year. By the 
last of June, all thuigs were ready for laying the corner-stone ; 
but this pleasing ceremony was deferred that it might tal^e 
place on the anniversary day of American independence, a day 
■which could hardly receive a more suitable commemoration. 
The corner-stone of the original building had been laid by 
Washington on the 18th of September, 1793. He had been 
assisted by some of the most eminent men of that period; and, 
when Mr. Fillmore was to perform a similar duty, to make 
the occasion most memorable, he relied on the presence, and 
aid, and eloquence of Daniel Webster. After the ceremony 
of depositing the stone had been completed, Mr. Webster stood 
up before the vast assemblage, which was probably as large a 
body of people as had ever been seen m one place at Wash- 
ington, and pronounced that oration, which, for appropriateness 
to tlie occasion, for sound political wisdom, for patriotic senti- 
ment, and for all his characteristic felicity of expression, may 
well stand and go down to posterity as the last great perform- 
ance of the first orator and statesman of his country. It will 
be read and admired while there is a country, a free country, 
an enlightened, patriotic, American republic, to admire any- 
thing worthy of admiration. 

It was during this first year of Mr. Fillmore's administra- 
tion, that the expedition of Lopez against Cuba came to so just 
and yet so sad a termination. Its ill success, however, did but 
little in suppressing the adventurous spirit that had inspired 
that movement, Cuba, if added to the Union, would not only 
soon constitute a southern and a slave-holding state, but it 
might be made, and doubtless would be made, the great slave- 
mart of all the other slave-holding states. The object of this 
expedition had been to revolutionize the island as the first step 
towards its annexation to this republic ; and Lopez, a worthless 



MR. CALDEROn's letter TO MR. WEBSTER. 439 

but bold adventurer, and a Spaniard, who held his life cheap, 
had been employed as the most fit person, considering his na- 
tionality and his fearlessness of character, to conduct it. He 
had been successful in alluring many thoughtless and equally 
wortliless young men of this country, gathered from the cor- 
ruptest portions of our great Atlantic cities, and in thus draw- 
ing together quite an ai-my. His head-quarters, before em- 
barking, had been made at New Orleans ; but, on landing on 
the island, after a few slight successes, he had been cut to pieces 
by the troops of the colonial government. He was himself 
garroted, or strangled, according to an old Spanish custom ; 
and he died with the firmness of a desperado. Fifly of his fol- 
lowers suffered a similar fate ; and the remainder of his delu- 
ded band, except a few M'ho were pardoned, were carried in 
chams to Spain to await the orders of the imperial government. 
This termination of things so disappointed their friends and 
sympatliizers at home, that excessive feelings began to mani- 
fest themselves in several of our great cities, among the lower 
population ; and, at New Orleans, the disappointment was so 
intense, tliat the rabble rushed upon the office of the Spanish 
consul, tore up or seriously insulted and mutilated the Spanish 
flag, and even fell upon the property and persons of peaceable 
Spanish citizens, committing outrages of a very unusual and 
heinous character. 

In this condition of affairs, the Spanish minister at Washing- 
ton, Don Calderon de la Barca, addressed a note to Mr. Web- 
ster, dated October 14th, 1851, complaining of these outrages, 
and demanding immediate reparation at the hands of the fede- 
ral government. His demand was entirely just; and Mr. 
Webster sent him a reply, dated the 13th of November, cor- 
dially condemning, in the name of the American government, 
this ill-starred and wicked expedition, and promising every 
possible and constitutional satisfaction for the excesses at New 
Orleans, which the president had power to make. This move- 



440 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

ment against Cuba, which was sought after for the immoral 
purposes before stated, could not fail to meet with the most 
settled and determined opposition of the secretary ; and the 
president himself was equally resolved, shutting his eyes to all 
considerations of personal popularity, either at the south or 
north, to call into action the entire military force of the coun- 
try, if necessary, to put down an enterprise so unjust in itself, 
so injurious to our filir name abroad, and so destructive of all 
sound political morality at home. There can be no doubt, in 
fact, that the country owes it to that high-minded administra- 
tion, that the escutcheon of liberty was not at that time blotted 
with a crime, which would have dishonored and weakened us 
abroad, and covered the face of every worthy and well-mean- 
ing citizen with shame. It was a poor time, certainly, with 
Millard Fillmore as president, and with Daniel Webster in the 
chair of state, to undertake expeditions of attack and conquest 
upon the rightful possessions of our neighbors. Heaven grant 
that all future presidents, and all succeeding secretaries, may 
imitate the rectitude and justice of their example ! 

Immediately following this correspondence vnth. the Spanish 
minister, Mr. Webster dispatched a letter to Mr. Barringer, 
our mmister at the court of Madrid, soliciting m the most elo- 
quent terms the release of those American prisoners, who had 
been captured in Cuba, and who were now under sentence of 
bemg sent to the Spanish mines. This letter is wholly charac- 
teristic of Mr. Webster. It opens with a true history of all 
the facts of the case, honorably stated in their full force, and 
closes with an appeal to the magnanimity, and clemency, and 
better judgment of the Spanish government, which could not 
fail to convince and move either a pliUantliropic or a prudent 
mind. The court of Madrid felt the force of this appeal ; and, 
in a short time, Mr. Webster had the happiness to learn, that 
a hundred and sixty-two of his unfortunate but not blameless 



CASE OF THRASHER. 441 

country-men had been restored to their families, if not to a 
proper life and conduct, entirely thi'ough his means. 

Among the individuals captured and seized by the authori- 
ties of Cuba, was John S. Thrasher, a native-bom citizen of the 
United States, who, many years before, had gone to the island 
in pursuit of busmess, and who had finally settled down as a 
citizen of Cuba, and taken the oath of allegiance to the Spanish 
crown. This person, while the movement against Cuba was 
m a state of preparation, had some connection, it is said, with 
the publication of a newspaper ; and when the invaders were 
on the island, before and after their defeat and capture, he was 
accused of administering to their aid and comfort. It was 
pretty clear, in flict, at the time these events transpired, that 
Mr. Tlu-asher had chosen to leave his native country, for the 
purpose of making his residence within the limits and under 
the jurisdiction of another government ; that, in order to ob- 
tain the full protection of the Spanish laws, without which his 
business could not have been so well or so profitably conducted, 
he had sworn fealty to the Spanish crown, promising to abide 
by and observe all the regulations of the country where he had 
voluntarily taken up his residence ; but that, contrary to all 
good principle, he had broken his faith with the Spanish gov- 
ernment, from the beginnmg of this adventure, by secretly 
sympatliizing with it, and aiding its plans of conquest, as he 
could not have done without his legal and acknowledged char- 
acter as a Spanish citizen. He had been caught in his mal- 
practices, however, tried, condemned, and sent to Spain to 
spend eight years at hard labor. His friends at home delayed 
not, of course, to make application to the American gov- 
erimient in Ms behalf; and, before there was time to search 
out the facts in the case, they very unjustly complamed 
of the tardiness of Mr. Webster in not answering their demand 
more speedily. This complamt was permitted to find its way 
into the public prmts ; and all the democratic journals, or a 



442 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

large number of them, immediately made battle on him as a 
slow if not dilatory officer. Mr. Webster was unmoved by 
all this uproar. He went directly forward, in his own way, 
in the faithful prosecution of what he supposed to be his duty. 
He dispatched two letters, one after the other, to the American 
consul at Havana ; but no answei-s cimie to him, none, at least, 
in time to give him the needed information for prompt action. 
Mr. Thrasher himself, though filling the opposition newspapers 
with his communications, or with communications purporting 
to be his, sent not a word to the department of state at Wash- 
ington. Erom other soiu-ces, however, Mr. Webster received 
proof enough, that Mr. Thrasher had been guilty of a breach 
of faith with the Cuban authorities ; that he was consequently 
an mireliable, unsafe, and unworthy man ; and that, should his 
release be obtained, he would be more than likely to run into 
the same or some similar trouble at the first oppoitunity. 
Under these circumstances, Mr. Webster could not be ex- 
pected to be very wax*ra or very hearty in liis application to 
the Spanish court ; and he chose to sufler some rej)roach for a 
time, rather than be found pleading with any excessive earnest- 
ness the cause of a man, v/ho would be almost certain, as he 
thought, soon to need some one to plead in his behalf again. 
Here, as so frequently before, were the moderation and Avis- 
dom of Mr. W^ebster again seen. He chose to sufler rather 
than do wrong, trustuig that, whatever might be the passion of 
the hour, the day of deliberative justice would at some time 
come. That day has now come. It is now here. That very 
individual, who was then published as " a most amiable and 
peaceable young man," who " never dreamed of having any 
connection with the invaders of Cuba," and who was " as far 
from raising a disturbance with other countries as the honora- 
ble secretary himself," is now, at this moment, while these 
Imes are being penned, according to the public prints of the 
day, under arrest in the city of New Orleans for an effort to 



COMMENCEMENT OF HIS LAST ILLNESS. 443 

repeat the offence for which he was at that time condemned. 
Mr. Webster's sagacity was never shallow ; and his power of 
purpose was utterly resistless when he acted under a settled 
conviction that he was right. Happy for the memory of ±\lr. 
Webster that this last distinguished act, as an American states- 
man, was an act of mercy so performed as to be sanctioned 
and sustained by the strictest sense of justice. It was an act done 
under the blended influence of those cardinal attributes of every 
really great man, and of every really great nation, as they are 
of the character of the great God himself, into whose presence 
he who had thus acted was soon, too soon, alas ! to enter. 



Reader, as suddenly as is here indicated, it was annoimced 
in the public prints, about the 22d of September, 1852, that 
Daniel Webster was sick at Marshfield ; and, from the condi- 
tion of his general health since the fii"st of'May previous, it was 
at once seen that this sickness might possibly be his last. For 
about twenty years he had been subject to the attacks of an 
annual diarrhea, which began as an occasional looseness, but 
which finally became, three or four years before his death, per- 
sistent ; and for nearly twenty years, also, he had suflered an- 
nually from a severe kind of catarrh, which ordmarily showed 
itself near the middle of August, and continued till October. 
In the month of July, 1851, he spent some time on his farm 
in Franyin, probably with the hope, that, by breathing his 
native air, the air he had breathed when young and vigorous, 
he might possibly escape his annual sickness, as he had done in 
1839, while breathing the similar air of England. By a slight 
exposure on the damp ground, however, he not only precipita- 
ted his chronic troubles, but brought on an attack of gout. On 
the 9th of September he went to Boston and placed himself 
under the care of his flimily physician. Dr. Jefiries, Avho, before 

VOL. I. S* 



444 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

the month was out, consented to his return to Washington. 
The following winter was the worst, in point of health, ^^hieh 
Mr. Webster had ever known, though, as has just been seen, 
he performed his usual amount of labor. No one would ima- 
gine, while perusing his able and eloquent official letters on the 
Spanish question, that they were wi'itten by a man worn down 
with sickness, and confined to his house and room by a com- 
plication of several severe disorders, either one of which might 
prove Mm mortal. They are another proof, however, of the 
power of a great spirit oVer the feebleness of a tottering physi- 
cal organization. Such a spirit will sometimes hold the body 
up ; and this was the condition of Mr. Webster till the latter 
part of April, 1852, when he could hold out no longer. Leav- 
ing his vast business, as far as possible, in the hands of his 
clerks, he retired once more to Marshfield, either hopeless of 
recovery, or trusting to the skill of his physician, who had had 
a long and particular acquaintance with all the habits and ten- 
dencies of his system, both in disease and health. On the 6th 
of May, while making an excursion through the adjacent re- 
gion, he was thrown from his carriage very suddenly and vio- 
lently ; his head came down with great force upon the ground, 
rendermg him utterly insensible for some minutes ; and it was 
found on examination, that he had injured the joints of both 
wrists, wounded his head outwardly near the right temple, and 
given a severe shock to his entu-e system. His arms, in par- 
ticular, which had been instinctively thrown out to break his 
fall, were found to be greatly swollen and sufFcrmg^rom the 
worst form of ecchymosis, an alternation of red and livid spots ; 
and he complained of sharp pains, not only that day, but for 
several successive days, through all his joints. The accident, 
indeed, was very serious, and greatly aggravated his old com- 
plamts ; but by the 20th of May he had so far recovered, that 
he rode to Boston for the purpose of seeing his physician. It 
was during that visit, after consulting with Dr. Jeffi-ies and Dr. 



PARTIAL RECOVERY. 445 

Mason Warren, that he was urged and prevailed upon to meet 
his fellow-citizens of Boston in some public place ; and accord 
ingly, on the 24th of May, though still sufteriug greatly from 
a combination of all his difficulties, which had prostrated his 
strength and broken do^TO his spirits, he appeared in Faneuil 
Hall before an immense gathering of the people, among whom, 
arrayed on seats left vacant for them, were the members of 
the general conference of the Methodist Episcopal church, who 
happened to be holding their quadrennial session in the city. 
Mr. Webster evidently intended to make no exertion in liis 
address on this occasion; a due regard to the state of his health, 
which was plainly uppermost in his mind, would not suffer 
hini to speak with anything like his usual animation ; his voice 
was so low and feeble, in the utterance of more than half his 
sentences, that it was nearly impossible for those not accus- 
tomed to listen to him to hear enough to keep up the thread 
of his observations ; but, when read in the public prints that 
evening, the speech was found to be, though on no particular 
subject, a series of very beautiful remarks, congratulatory and 
conversational, tastefully adapted to the time and place, and 
expressed in that clear, correct, easy style so characteristic of 
all his minor efibrts. It proved to be his last speech in that 
hall which his eloquence had made memorable over all civ- 
ilized countries. 

Having recovered so far as to admit of his return to Wasl** 
ington, he remained at his post of duty, though in great and 
growing feebleness of body, till the time of his public reception 
at Boston m July, a day of great triumph to him and to his 
abiduTg friends politically, but a day to have been avoided by 
a man so evidently approachmg, unless exceedingly careful of 
his health, that final ilhiess from which there is no recovery. 
To sustain him through the day of this reception, he was com- 
pelled to take mcdichie very freely, under the advice of Dr. 
Jeffries ; and when that day was over, it was plain enough to 



446 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

every practiced observer, that he would never be able to en- 
dure the turmoil and labors of another like it. Still, determined 
as ever to do his work, while he could stand or sit, he was 
again in Washington till the beginning of September, when he 
once more made a trip of recreation and health to Massachu- 
setts. While passing tlu-ough Baltimore, he took a cold, which 
greatly aggravated the disorder of his bowels, and deranged his 
general health materially and even fundamentally. On the 
20th of September he drove from Marshfield to Boston again 
to consult Dr. Jeffries, who describes the appearance of his 
illustrious patient, at this time, in very decisive language : "It 
was then observed," says the physician, in an article published 
in the American Journal of the Medical Sciences, " that he had 
lost much flesh, which gave to his large eyes a somewhat un- 
natural appearance. His face was pale, with a peculiar sallow- 
ness ; but there was no jaundice at this or any other time. 
He rose from the recumbent posture slowly and with some 
apparent difficulty ; and he had the aspect of a very sick man. 
He stated that he had been more than usually unwell for a 
week or more; he complained of uneasiness on the left side of 
the abdomen, with consequent difficulty of lying on that side ; 
there was sometimes a sense of tightness across the lower part 
of the abdomen. The bowels were still, loose, but not quite so 
irritable ; the appetite was wholly gone ; the skin was com- 
monly very dry ; and there was a constant dryness of the 
tongue and fences, with much thirst. The tongue was covered 
with a light brown coat ; and the pulse was one hundred and 
six, quite full, but easily compressed, somewhat jerking, with 
four intermissions in a minute." 

On the next day, the 21st of September, he returned to 
Marshfield, where he was to abstain from all mental labor, to 
avoid all bodily fatigue, to make his morning and evening 
meal of toasted bread and tea, to dine on a light portion of 
animal food with one vegetable, and to give up all his time to 



L 



PERIODS OF A man's ILLNESS, 447 

rest and recreation. He went home, indeed, with a very clear 
idea of his critical condition. At the time of his visit to Dr. 
Jeffries, in the month of September of the previous year, he 
had worn that peculiar aspect of uneasiness so indicative of the 
mind's first doubt respecting the probability of recovery ; and 
with that same restless cast of countenance, aggravated by the 
more serious and complicated troubles of the current season, 
he again entered his house hoping for the best, but fearflil, 
plainly fearful, of the result that did actually follow. 

There are two periods in the life of a tliinking man, when, 
in respect to life and death, he experiences no uneasiness. The 
first is when he is in such a state of sound and vigorous health 
as not to allow of his dwelling, with any degree of fixedness 
and painfulness, on the termination of his existence ; and the 
last is that brief period when life is given up, when the mind 
has settled down upon the certainty of the near approach of 
dissolution, and when hope is triumphant over the last enemy, 
or despair has given place to apathy. The middle period is 
the period of unrest, of anxiety, of real distress of mind. It is 
the period of uncertainty, of doubt, of suspense, when there is 
too much of iUness to insure recovery, and too much of health 
to permit of yielding to death without a struggle. The arrow 
has touched the heart ; but it is impossible to tell him how 
far it penetrates. To-5ay, it sticks deep, it touches upon the 
springs of life, and the soul (not without hope, indeed) shud- 
ders as it looks into the very face of death. To-morrow, tlie 
shaft is loose, it nearly jostles from its place, a slight touch will 
almost (but not quite, alas !) extract it and throw it off. Now, 
the arrow is deep again, not quite so deep, it may be deeper ; 
it is very fast ; but, if even so, it has been so before, and yet 
death did not follow. Now, another day, though sleep has in- 
tervened, though unconsciousness has intervened, though beau- 
tiful and pleasant dreams have intervened — dreams of youth, 
and health, and joyous friends, and many of the chai'ming 



448 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

scenes stored in the chambers of the mind — ^the mind now wakes 
to consciousness only to find that it was all a dream, that the 
arrow is there, that the shaft still trembles at the side, deeper 
it may be, perhaps not so deep, but the barb, the very barb, 
of the arrow is felt (possibly it is) m the very depths withui. 
Such things may have been felt before by those who afterwards 
revived and lived. Possibly this may not have been the case. 
Who that lives can decide 1 Time must tell. Only time can 
tell. The days, the weary days, go on, bringing nothing but 
uncertainty, leaving nothing behind but doubt. With the pos- 
sibility of death so near, however, how the mind does grapple 
at times with the great questions, which, until now, it has ha- 
bitually sent forward to a future day ; and then, the next mo- 
ment, it does brush them all away again as the idle fancies of a 
sick man's brain : 

" Uncertaintly ! 
Fell demon of our fears ! the human soul, 
That can support despair, supports not thee ! " 

During this period of conflict, that restless, wandering and 
longing cast of countenance, before detected in the expression 
of Mr. Webster, still remained with him, after his return to 
Marshfield. Who will divulge his thoughts, while he lies upon 
that bed, or walks down into this library, where he is not al- 
lowed to study, or wanders about the halls or into the adjacent 
rooms, looking upon the pictured faces of the living and the 
dead, or gazes through the windows upon his fields, or ranges 
his eye along his familiar haunts down to the very shore of 
the great ocean, where he used to wander and to Avalk and 
muse when he was well 1 At evening, when the moon came 
pouring through the shutters, when all was still and quiet in 
his- house, who will declare what were his reveries of the past, 
how he dwelt upon or forgot the present, with what sentiments, 
what certainty, what uncertainty, what thankfulness or regrets, 
what hopes or fears, what calm trust or fiiithful preparation, he 



HIS VIEWS OF LIFK AND DEATH. 449 

looked out upon that approaching future, that other future, 
where what is fixed is fixed forever 1 Afterwards, when the 
stars were out, the silent stars, that seem almost to think as 
they keep up the vigils of the night, who will publish and make 
it plain, whether he gave the precious hours to sleep, or spent 
them in thinking of the magnificence and perfection of the Cre- 
ator's works, in contemplation of the wisdom and goodness of 
his providence, in drawing hope and comfort from the iimu- 
merable tokens of his love, and in looking through the thin 
vail of the material to the light and glory of the immaterial 
and eternal ? No one can now inform the world in relation to 
these things. One thing only is certain. Mr. Webster had 
always been a thoughtful, prudent, far-seeing man, who never 
neglected the future for the present, but who ever inclined to 
make the present yield to the demands and necessities of the 
fixture ; and he has left no room to doubt whether, long before 
this period of his life had come, he had not pondered often, and 
pondered deeply, on the eternal interests of man after he passes 
this mortal state. " One may live," he had said, in speaking 
of the decease of a dear and valued friend, Mr. Justice Story, — 
" one may live as a conqueror, a king, or a magistrate ; but he 
must die as a man. The bed of death brings every man to 
his pure individuality ; to the intense contemplation of that 
deepest and most solemn of all relations, the relation between 
the creature and his Creator. Here it is that fame and re- 
nowTi cannot assist us ; that all external things must fail to aid 
us ; that even friends, affection, and human love and devoted- 
ness, cannot succor us." 

A superficial man may write such things without feeling 
them. A man like Daniel Webster could scarcely do it; and 
we may properly apply them now to his own case, and listen 
to him, as he continues to speak, in the language he had used 
on the death of another valued friend, of the experience of 
one like liimself in the decline aiid near the termination of his 



450 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

life: "Political eminence and professional fame fade away 
and die with all things earthly. Nothing of character is really 
permanent but virtue and personal worth. These remain. 
Whatever of excellence is wrought into the soul itself belongs 
to both worlds. Real goodness does not attach itself merely 
to this life ; it points to another world. Political or profes- 
sional reputation cannot last forever ; but a conscience void 
of oflence before God and man is an inheritance for eternity. 
Meligion, therefore, is a necessary and indispensable element 
m any great human character. There is no living without it. 
Religion is the tie which connects man with his Creator, and 
holds him to his throne. If that tie be all sundered, all bro- 
ken, he floats away, a worthless atom in the universe; its 
proper attractions all gone, its destiny thwarted, and its whole 
future nothing but darkness, desolation and death. A man 
wdth no sense of religious duty is he whom the Scriptures de- 
scribe, in such terse but terrific language, as living 'without 
God in the world.' Such a man is out of his proper being, out 
of the circle of all his duties, out of the circle of all his happi- 
ness, and away, far, fir away, from the purposes of his creation. 
"A mind like Mr. Mason's" — Jeremiah Mason, of whom he 
was speaking — " active, thoughtful, penetrating, sedate, could 
not but meditate on the condition of man below, and feel its 
responsibilities. He could not look on this mighty system, 

' This nnivei-sal frame thus wondrous fair,' 

without feeling that it was created and upheld by an Intel- 
ligence to which all other intelligences must be responsible. I 
am bound to say, that, in the course of my life, I never met 
with an individual, in any profession or condition in life, who 
always spoke, and always thought, with such a>vful reverence 
of the power and presence of God. No irreverence, no light- 
ness, even no too familiar allusion to God and his attributes, 
ever escaped his lips. The very notion of a Supreme Being 



REMARKS OF MR. HILLARD. 451 

was, wldi him, made up of awe and sublimity. It filled the 
whole of his great mind with the strongest emotions. A man 
like him, with all his proper sentiments and sensibilities alive 
in him, mi/st,m this state of existence, have something to be- 
lieve and something to hope for ; or else, as life is advancing 
to its close and parting, all is heart-shaking and oppression. 
Depend upon it, whatever may be the mind of an old man, 
t)ld ago is only really happy, when, on feeling the enjoyments 
of this world pass away, it begins to lay a stronger hold on 
those of another." 

While lying upon this bed of sickness, doubtful of «the result 
before him, though giving his great thoughts mainly, without 
doubt, to the eternal and incomprehensible interests of the soul, 
Mr. Webster was by no means neglectful of the present, or 
of those high duties devolving upon him as the first cabinet 
officer of the republia "Here, but a few weeks since," -svrote 
Mr. Hillard, referring to this painful period, " Mr. Webster 
was accustomed to drive the transient guest over his estate, vis- 
iting his fields, his ocean shore, his flocks, and his herds ; point- 
ing out the prospect, and speaking with tender emotion of the 
sad and happy memories the varied views recalled ; conversing 
with the rustic neighboi-s whom he chanced to meet, in kind 
and genial tones, and on subjects which he and they understood 
alike; uttering, from time to time, glorious thoughts, suggested 
by the scene, in language of massive beauty and grandeur, 
which made the moment memorable in the listener's life. Bug 
this has been in some measure interrupted. That- noble hrm, 
that surpassing strength of constitution, has drooped under the 
protracted iUness which has held him fi-om the turmoil raging 
outside of that secluded spot ; the drives over the hills, and 
along the loud-resounding sea, which he loved so much, have 
ceased. Solemn thoughts exclude from his mind the inferior 
topics of the fleeting hour ; and the great and awful themes of 
the future, now seemingly open before him — themes to which 

VOL. I. ;^9 



453 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

his mind has always and instinctively turned its profoundest med- 
itations — now fill the horn's won from the weary lassitude of 
illness, or from the public duties, wliich sickness and retirement 
cannot make him forget or neglect. The eloquent speculations 
of Cicero on the immortality of the soul, and the admirable 
arguments against the Epicurean philosophy, put into the mouth 
of one of the colloquists, in the book on the nature of the gods, 
share his thoughts with the sure testimony of .the word of God. 
But no day passes that the affairs of the country do not oc- 
cupy his attention. His great mind never applied itself with 
a calmer or more comprehensive grasp to the duties of his de- 
partment. The intellectual power asserts its supremacy over 
physical weakness and tedious disease, Avith an unfeltering en- 
ergy of soul, that, in itself, is a stronger argument of its immor- 
tality, than Cicero ever uttered m the majestic accents of the 
Latin tongue. These are the dignified pursuits that grace the 
days of suffering passed by the illustrious statesman of Marsh- 
field. The respectful sympathies of the countiy surround liim 
in his hours of illness ; and the prayers of good men go up 
to heaven for his speedy restoration," 

There is no doubt, indeed, that the nation felt a concern seldom 
experienced by a v/hole people for any citizen ; there is no 
doubt that prayers, ardent prayers, went up daily and hourly 
to a merciful God, that the nation's favorite son might be spared 
to the nation a little longer ; but, in the midst of all this solici- 
tude, he contmued gradually to decline, growing paler, thinner, 
weaker, with each day's revolution. '• He was aware of his 
decline," says Mr. Ticknor, who has given the best account of 
his last sickness, " and watched it with careful observation ; 
frequently giving intimations to those nearest to him, of the 
failure of his strength, which he noticed, and of the result which 
he apprehended must be approaching. Toward the end of 
September, he seemed, indeed, to rally a little ; but it was soon 
apparent to others, no less tlian to himself, that, as the days 



HE WRITES HIS EPITAPH. 453 

passed ou, each brought with it some slight proof of a gradual 
decay in his bodily powers and resources. 

" On Sunday evening, October 10th, he desired a friend who 
was sitting with him," continues Mr. Ticknor, " to read to him 
the passage in the ninth chapter of St. iMark's gospel, where 
the man brings his child to Jesus to be cured, and the Sav- 
ior tells him, ' If thou canst believe ; all things are possible 
to him that believeth ; and straightway the father of the child 
cried out, with tears, Lord, I believe ; help thou mme unbe- 
lief ' Now,' he continued, ' turn to the tenth chapter of St. 
John, and read from the verse where it is said, " Many of the 
Jews believed on him." ' After this, he dictated a few lines, 
and du-ected them to be signed with his name, and dated, 
Sunday evening, October 10th, 1852. 'This,' he then added, 
' is the inscription to be placed on my monument.' A few- 
days later — on the loth — he recurred to the same subject, and 
revised and corrected with his own hand, what he had earlier 
dictated, so as to make the whole read as follows : 

'"LOED, I BELIEVE; HELP THOU 
MINE UNBELIEF." 

Philosophical 
argument, especially 
that drawn from the vastness of 
the Universe, in comparison with the 
apparent insig-nificance of tli is globe, has some- 
times shaken my reason for the faith which is in mo ; 
but my heart has always assured and reassured me that the 
Gospel of Jesus Christ must be a Divine Pvcality. The 
Sermon on the Mount cannot be a merely hu- 
man production. This belief enters 
into the very depths of my con- 
science. The whole liiitory 
of man proves it 

'DANIEL WEBSTEE.' " 

Such a scene as this, such a record as this, will not fail to 
have its weight in behalf of the christian religion, not only with 



454 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTEE-PIECES. 

all thinking men, but even with the comparatively thoughtless, 
as long as the scene is preserved in history, as long as the rec- 
ord shall stand uneflaced on his tomb-stone of granite, or on liis 
monument of marble. Daniel Webster, the most mtellectual 
man of recent history, the profoundest reasoner of modern 
times, near the end of his days, but while all his faculties were 
in their full vigor, and at a season of the utmost solemnity, 
gives his deliberate testimony to the truth and reality of reli- 
gion ; and yet, there are hundreds of superficial men, as shal- 
low as he was deep, who, with not sense enough to have as- 
certained their want of mind, are ready, anywhere, to say that 
they look upon the Bible as a book of fables, and Christianity 
as a long-plotted and well-fabricated lie. Had this been true, 
would not such a man as Daniel Webster have been likely, 
if any one, to detect it ? Through his whole life, on the con- 
trary, he never failed to give his whole testimony on the side 
of practical religion ; and now, in the very face of death, he 
declares a belief in it, which, when the circumstances are all 
considered, renders it equal in weight to any testimony ever 
given by a man not inspired. " If I get well," said he to his 
friend, on the occasion of his first dictating this epitaph, " if I 
get well, and write a book on Christianity, about which we have 
talked, we can attend more fully to this matter. But, if I 
should be taken away suddenly, I do not wish to leave any 
duty of this kind unperformed. I want to leave, somewhere, 
a declaration of my belief in Christianity." Knowing, even in 
the humble hour of hi.s last illness, that his final opinions upon 
this subject would not fail to have great authority among men, 
he hastens to give a formal utterance of that opinion, and or- 
ders this solemn declaration of his faith, instead of the events 
and now worthless honors of his life, to be inscribed where it 
would be read and respected as long as any regard should be 
- paid to his memory, or any weight of authority should be 
carried m liis name. 



LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. 455 

" Warned by his increasing debility," continues Mr. Ticknor, 
" he had ah-cady given some directions concerning a final dis- 
position of- his worldly affairs; but he now desired that his 
■will might be immediately drawn up in legal form, and the 
next day, he dictated a considerable j^ortion of it with great 
precision and a beautiful appropriateness of phraseology." 
]\Ir. Ticknor is undoubtedly correct in regard to the time, as 
well as the manner, iu which the instrument was drawn up ; 
but all the published copies of the will bear the date of the 
21st of September^ which, in this volume, has been changed 
to that of the 21st of October, which is indisputably the 
true date. Whenever made, however, that last will and 
testament of Daniel Webster is entirely characteristic of his 
great mind. He scarcely ever did anything like other men ; 
and yet he affected novelty in nothing he performed. There 
was always in his position, or in the circumstances of the case 
where he was called to act, something new, something original, 
something that had never occurred before; and therefore, as 
in this instance, he was almost always called upon to do some- 
thing in a way for which he had no precedent. Tliis will is 
M'ithout a precedent : it is so perfectly original, and yet so 
beautifully adapted to his case, that it must ever be admired, 
as a model of its kind ; nor could any life, however cursory, 
of the great statesman, be at all complete, unless it put into 
the possession of the reader, word for word, a document which, 
more than anything he ever produced in so small a compass, 
is the best exhibit of his worldly condition, and the most con- 
summate image and emblem of his life, his mtellect, and his 
heart : 

" IN THE NAME OF ALMIGHTY GOD ! 

•' I, Daniel Webster, of Marshfield, in the county of Plym- 
outh, and commonwealth of Massachusetts, Esquire, being now 
confined to my house with a serious illness, which, considering 



456 "WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

my time of life, is undoubtedly critical, but being nevertheless 
in the full possession of my mental faculties, do make and pub- 
lish this, my last will and testament : 

" I conmiit my soul into the hands of my Heavenly Father, 
trusting in his infinite 'goodness and mercy. 

" I direct that my mortal remains be buried in the family 
vault at Marshfield, where monuments are already erected to 
my deceased children and their mother. Two places are 
marked for other monuments, of exactly the same size and 
form. One of these, in proper time, is for me, and perhaps I 
may leave an epitaph. The other is for Mrs. Webster. Her 
ancestors, and all her kindred, lie in a far distant city. My 
hope is, that after many years, she may come to my side, and 
join me and others whom God hath given me, 

" I wish to be buried without the least show or ostentation 
but in a manner respectful to my neighbors, whose kindness 
has contributed so much to the happiness of me and mine 
and for whose prosperity I offer sincere prayers to God. 

" Concerning my worldly estate, my will must be anoma- 
lous and out of the common form, on occount of the state of 
my affairs. I have two large real estates. By marriage set- 
tlement, Mrs. Webster is entitled to a life estate in each and 
after her death, they belong to my heirs. On the Franklin 
estate, so far as I know, thei-e is no incumbrance except ]Mrs. 
Webster's life estate. On JNIarshfield, Mr. Samuel Frothino-. 
ham has an unpaid balance of a mortgage, now amountin"- to 
twenty -five hundred dollars. My gi-eat and leading wish is to 
preserve Marshfield, if I can, in the blood and name of my 
own family. To this end, it must go in the first place to my 
Eon, Fletcher Webster, who is hereafter to be the immediate 
prop of my house, and the general representative of my name 
and character. I have the fullest confidence in his affection and 
good sense, and that he will heartily concur in anythiuo- that 
appears to be for the best. 



CONTINUATION OF THE WILL. 457 

" I do not see, under present circumstances of him and his 
family, how I can now make a definite provision for the future 
beyond his life ; I propose, therefore, to put the property into 
the hands of trustees, to be disposed of by them, as exigencies 
may require. 

" ;My aflbctionate wife, who has been to me a source of so 
much happiness, must be tenderly provided for. Care must 
be taken that she has some reasonable income. I make tliis 
will upon the faith of what has been said to me by ffiends, 
of means which will be found to carry out my reasonable 
wishes. It is best that ^Irs. Webster's life interest in the 
two estates be purchased out. It must be seen what can 
be done with frieads at Boston, and especially with the con- 
tributors to my life annuity. My son-m-law, ISIr. Appleton, 
has generously requested me to pay little regard to his inter- 
ests, or to those of his children, but I must do something, and 
enouffh to manifest my w^arm love and attachment to him and 
them. The property best to be spared for the purpose of buy- 
ing out Mrs Webster's life interest under the marriage settle- 
ment, is Franklin, which is very valuable property, and which 
may be sold under prudent management, or mortgaged for a 
considerable sum. 

"I have also a quantity of valuable land in Illinois, at Peru, 
which ought to be immediately seen after, ISIr. Edward Curtis 
and Tilr. Blatchford and Mr. Franklin Haven know all about 
my laro-e debts, and they have undertaken to see at once 
whethei" those can be provided for, so that these purposes may 
probably be carried into effect. 

" With these explanations, I now make the followuig pro- 
visions, namely : 

" Item. I appoint my wife Caroline Le Roy Webster, my 
son Fletcher Webster, and K. M. Blatclilbrd, Esquire, of 
New York, to be the executors of this will. I wish my said 
executors and also the trustees hcremafter named, in all things 



458 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

relating to finance and pecuniary matters, to consult with my 
valued friend, Franklin Haven ; and in all thii:igs respecting 
Marshfield, with Charles Henry Thomas, always an intimate 
friend, and one whom I love for his own sake and that of his fam- 
ily ; and in all things respecting Franldin, with that true man, 
John Taylor ; and I wish them to consult in all matters of 
law, with my brethren and highly esteemed friends, Cliarles P. 
Curtis, and George T. Curtis. 

" Item. I give and devise to James W. Paige and Franklin 
Haven, of Boston, and Edward Curtis, of New York, all my 
real estate in the to wis of IMarshfield, in tlie state of Massa- 
chusetts, and Franklin, in the state of New Hampshire, being 
the two estates above mentioned, to have and to hold the same 
to them and their heirs and assigns forever, upon the following 
trusts, namely : 

" First. To mortgage, sell, or 'lease so much thereof as may 
be necessary to pay to my v/ife, Caroline Le Eoy Webster, 
the estimated value of her life interest, heretofore secured to 
her thereon by marriage settlement, as is above recited, if she 
shall elect to receive that valuation in place of the security witli 
which those estates now stand charged. 

" Secondly. To pay to my said wife from the rents and 
profits and income of the said two estates, the further sum of 
five hundred dollars per annum during her natural life. 

" Thirdly. To hold, manage, and carry on the said two 
estates, or so much thereof as nia_)' not be sold for the pur- 
poses aforesaid, for the use of my son, Fletcher Webster, du- 
ring his natural life, and after his decease, to convey the same 
in fee to such of his male descendants as a majority of the said 
trustees may elect, they acting therein with my son's concur- 
rence, if circumstances admit of his expressing his wishes, other- 
wise acting upon their own discretion ; it being my desire that 
his son Ashburton Webster take one, and his son Daniel Web- 
ster, Jr., the other of the said est'ites. 



CONTINUATION OF THE WILL. 459 

"Item. I direct tlmt my wife, Caroline Le Roy Webster, 
have, and I hereby give to her, the right during her life, to re- 
side in my mausiou house, at Marshfield, when she wishes to 
do so, with my son, in case he may reside there, or in his ab- 
sence ; and this I do, not doubting my son's affection for her 
or for me, but becjiuse it is due to her that she should receive 
this right from her husband. 

"Item. I give and bequeath to the said James W. Paige, 
Franklin Haven, and Edward Curtis, all the books, plate, pic- 
tures, statuary, and furniture, and other personal property now 
in my mansion-house at Marshfield, except such articles as are 
hereinafter otherwise disposed of, ui. trust to preserve the same 
in the mansion-house for the use of my son, Fletcher Webster, 
during his life, and after his decease to make over and deliver 
the same to the person who will then become 'the owner of 
the estate of Marslifield,' it being my desire and intention that 
they remain attached to the house while it is occupied by any 
of my name and blood. 

" Item. I give and bequeath to my said wife all my furniture 
which she brought with her on her marriage, and the silver 
plate purchased of Air. Rush, for her own use. 

" Item. I give, de\^se, and bequeath to my said executors aU 
my other real and personal estate, except such as is hereafter 
described and otherwise disposed of, to be applied to the exe- 
cution of the general purposes of this will, and to be sold and 
disposed of, or held and used at Marshfield, as they and tlie 
said trustees may find to be expedient. 

" Item, I give and bequeath to my son, Fletcher Webster, 
all my law books, wherever situated, for liis own use. 

" Item. I give and bequeath to my son-in-law, Samuel A. 
Appleton, my Califurnia watch and ch;iin, fcjr his o\\^l use. 

"Item. I give and bequeath to my granddaughter, Caroline 
Le Roy Appleton, the portrait of myself, by Ilealy, which 

VOL. I. T 



460 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

now hangs in the south-east parlor, at Marshfield, for her o^Yn 
use, 

" Item. I give and bequeath to my grandson, Samuel A. 
Appleton, my gold snuff-box, with the head of General Wash- 
ton, all my fishing taekle, and my Selden and Wilmot guns, for 
his OAvn use. 

" Item^ I give and bequeath to my grandson, Daniel Web- 
ster Appleton, my Washigton medals, for his own use. 

" Item. I give and bequeath to my granddaughter, Julia 
Webster Appleton, the clock presented to her grandmother by 
the late Hon. George Blake. 

" Item. I appoint Edward Everett, George Ticknor, Corne- 
lius Conway Felton, and George Ticknor Curtis, to be my lit- 
erary executors ; and I direct my son, Fletcher Webster, to 
seal up all my letters, manuscripts, and papers, and at a proper 
time to select those relatmg to my personal history, and my 
professional and public life, which in his judgment should be 
placed at their disposal, and to transfer the same to them, to 
be used by them iu such manner as they may thmk fit. They 
may receive valuable aid from my friend, George J. Abbott, 
Esq., now of the state department. 

" ]\Iy servant, William Johnson, is a free man. I bought 
his freedom not long ago for six hundred dollars. No demand 
is to be made upon him for any portion of this sum, but so 
long as is agreeable, I hope he will romaiu with the family. 

" Item. IMorricha IMcCarty, Sarah Smith, and Ann Bean, 
colored persons, now also, and for a long time in my service, 
are all free. They are very well deservuig, and whoever comes 
after me must be kind to them. 

" Item. I request that my said executors and trustees be 
not required to give bonds for the performance of their respect- 
ive duties under this will. 

" In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and 
seal, at ISIarshfield, and have published and declared this to be 



A FATAL SYMPTOM. 461 

my last -will and testament, on the twenty-first day of Octo- 
ber ill the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and fifty-two. 
"[Signed.] DANIEL WEBSTER." 

After the will had been prepared, it was laid aide to be ex- 
ecuted tlie next day ; but, in the afternoon of the same day, 
Mr. Webster suffered from a new and alarming symptom, 
warning him to do quickly whatever was yet not done. A 
large quantity of blood issued suddenly from his stomach. 
Fixing an "intensely scrutinizing look" upon his attending 
physician, he asked, " What is that ? " Being told that it 
came from the diseased part, " with the same piercing look," 
and with a change of accent, he repeated, " What is that % " 
That piercing look, however, had penetrated the mystery be- 
fore the att<^»nding physician had time to answer. " That is the 
enemy," said Mr. Vv^'ebster, "if you can conquer thaV — but a 
recurrence of the symptom hindered him from saying what 
then might be his encouragement. As soon as he was again 
easy, he had his will brought before him. He would not exe- 
cute it, however, till he had satisfied himself that its provisions 
were perfectly satisflictory to all who were interested in it, a 
prudent forethought scarcely ever exercised, but entirely chai^ 
acteristic of j\Ir. Webster. Witli all his knowledge of the 
troubles frequently entailed on families by wills, he was deter- 
mined to entail no troubles on those he should leave behind 
him. Having thus disposed of his worldly estate, he folded 
his hands together and said, " I thank God for strength to per- 
form a sensible act." He then gave himself up to prayer. 
" In a full voice," says j\Ir. Ticknor, " and with a most rev- 
erential manner, he went on and prayed aloud fur some min- 
utes, ending with the Lord's prayer and the ascription, ' And 
now unto God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, be praise 
forever more. Peace on earth and good will towards men ' — 
after which, clasping his hands together, as at first, he added 



462 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

with great emphasis, ' That is the happiness — the essence — 
good will towards men." 

He now requested all in the room to leave it, excepting Dr. 
Jeffries and a colored niu'se, that he might obtain a little sleep. 
When alone with these two, he said to his physician, " Doctor, 
you look sober. You think I shall not be here in the morn- 
ing, but I shall. I shall greet the morning light.'''' The next 
day, thinkiiig that the doctor looked sad, he again said, " Cheer 
up, doctor — cheer up — I shall not die to-day. You will get 
me along to-day.^'' He continued through Friday very much 
in the same way, giving consolation to others, instead of mani- 
festing any signs of his needing consolation or sympathy him- 
self. There is no doubt, that, in his own. mind, he had that 
consolation which no man can give or take away. " On the 
morning of the 23d," which was Saturday, " he announced him- 
self/' says Dr. Jeffries, " conscious of his situation, and said, 
'/ shall die to-night.'''''' 

The concluding scene was now rapidly approaching. Dr. J. M. 
Warren was sent for from Boston, as a relief to Dr. Jeffi-ies, 
who had been constantly with Mr. Webster for more than a 
whole week ; and JMr. Webster gave all the directions to the 
messenger, with eveiy minute particular of the duty to be per- 
formed, as he would have done in perfect health. After enjoying 
another short season of repose, he had his wife, and son, and the 
other members of his family called in, with whom he conversed 
most tenderly and yet plainly on the great subjects of religion, 
assuruig them, without a change of countenance, and Avithout 
expressing any unusual emotion, that his end was near. Late 
in the day, having probably noticed some decided mark of 
progress in his disease, he again called in liis friends to give 
them his final blessing. " Afl;er nightfall," says Mr. Ticknor, 
" he received at his bedside each member of his family and 
household, the friends gathered under his roof, and the servants, 
most of whom having been long in his service had become to 



I 



WISHES TO COMPREHEND DEATH. 463 

him as fliithful and aflectionate friends. It was a solemn and 
religious parting, in which, while all around him were over- 
whelmed yviih sorrow, he preserved his accustomed equanim- 
ity, speaking to each words of appropriate kindness and conso- 
lation which they will ti'easure hereafter among their most pre- 
cious and life-long possessions." 

Ha\mg performed all these duties to the living, and ha^•ing 
without any doubt settled and fixed his relations satisfactorily 
with God, he now seemed to enter into the work of death, if 
these words can express the thought, as no other man has done 
of whom history gives any clear account. Socrates, when dy- 
ing, conversed with his friends about immortality and the fu- 
ture life. Triumphant christians usually die with exclamations 
of joy over their consciousness of deliverance from an evil 
world and their immediate entrance into a felicity ineffable and 
eternal. Mr. Webster, as oi'igmal in death as he had always 
been in life, after having closed up the past and provided for 
the future, appeared now to give himself exclusively to the ex- 
perience of the present. He seemed to watch, with all his 
great powers of mmd, each passing moment, and note each re- 
move he made toward the final goal. A celebrated philoso- 
pher once held himself immersed in water, that he might learn 
the first sensations of a drowning man ; and another, equally 
celebrated and equally curious, stood in a receiver while the 
air \^'as gradually taken from it by an air-pump, because, for 
some philosophical reason, he wished to know the experience 
of one dying, or rather beguuiing to die, by a want of breath. 
These persons, however, expected not to die, but to be rescued 
at the proper time. They could, therefore, go coolly to their 
experiments. Here is a man, on the contrary, who desired to 
learn all the feelings of a person, not in a few of the first mo- 
ments of a stoppage of vitality, but in the very act of dying, 
and through the whole gloomy process and progress of that act 
to the very last. He is raakuig no experiment, no feint, soon 



464 WEBST-ER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

to be relinquished. Nor, like the classic poets, who, m imagi- 
nation, had described the passage of the soul to the other world, 
was he throwing himself into any unreal state of fancy. All 
was real, actual, solemn fact. He was actually dying ; and, 
as no one but a dying man can know how one dies, and as his 
first and last opportunity of obtaining this knowledge was then 
with him, he resolved to embrace that opportunity to the ut- 
most. This remarkable resolution could have been taken with 
no view of communicating the results of it to his fellow-crea- 
tures. All he could expect from what he might thus learn of 
the soul's leave-talving of the body was, that the mind would 
caiTy its knowledge with it into the world he was about to en- 
ter. Of the millions of the human flxmily who had died, per- 
haps no one had ever cari-ied any perfect recognition of this 
final act into the future state; and it is possible that Mr. Web- 
ster may have conceived the original and sublime thought of 
being the bearer of this new knowledge into that pure, intel- 
lectual world of which he was so soon to become an inhabi- 
tant. It is more probable, however, even if such a conception 
may have flashed upon his mind, that the great motive of the 
act was simply his original, irrepressible, undecaying, and un- 
dying thirst for knowledge. It was his love of truth ; and, cer- 
tainly, as no man had ever given greater evidences of the 
strength of this ruling propensity in life, so no man ever gave 
to it so glorious an exhibition in the hour and article of death. 
" From the morning of Saturday," says Mr. Ticknor, " when 
he had announced to his attendant physician — what nobody, 
until that time, had intimated — that 'he should die that night,' 
the whole strength of his great faculties seemed to be directed 
to obtain for him a plain and clear perception of his onward 
passage to another world, and of his feelings and condition at 
the precise moment, when he should be entering its confines. 
Once, being faint, he asked if he were not then dying ; and, on 
being answered that he was not, but that he was near to death, 



HIS LAST WORDS. 465 

he replied simply, '■well^^ as if the frank and exact reply were 
what he desired to receive. A little later, when his kind phy- 
sician repeated to him that striking text of Scripture — 'Yea, 
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will 
fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they 
comfort me,' he seemed less satisfied, and said, 'Yes — but the 
fact — the fact I want,' desiring to know if he were to regard 
these words as an intimation that he was already within that 
dark valley. On another occasion, he inquired whether it were 
likely that he should again eject blood from his stomach before 
death, and, being told that it was improbable, he asked, 'Then. 
tvhat shall you do 1 ' Being answered that he would be sup- 
ported by stimulants, and rendered as easy as possible by the 
opiates that had suited him so well, he inquired at once if the 
stimulants should not be given immediately, anxious again to 
know if the hand of death were not already upon him. And, 
on being told that it would not be then given, he replied, 
' When you give it to me, I shall know that I may drop off at 
once.' Being satisfied on this point, and that he should, there- 
fore, have a final warning, he said, a moment afterwards, 'I 
will, then, put myself in a position to obtain a little repose.' 
hi this he was successful. lie had intervals of rest to the last ; 
but on rousing from them, he showed that he was still intensely 
anxious to preserve his consciousness, and to watch for the mo- 
ment and act of his departure, so as to comprehend it. Awar 
king from one of these slumbers, late in tlie night, he asked 
distinctly if he were aUve, and, on being assured that he was, 
and that his family was collected around his bed, he said, in a 
perfectly natural tone, as if ■ assenting to what had been told 
him, because he himself perceived that it was true, '/ still 
live.'' These were his last coherent and intelligible words. At 
twentv-three minutes befure three o'clock, without a struircle 
or a groan, all signs of life ceased to be visible, his vital organs 
giving way at last so slowly and gradually as to indicate — 



466 "WEBSTER AND }IIS MASTER-PIECES. 

what everything dm-hig his ilhiess had ah-eady shown — that his 
intellectual and moral faculties still maintained an extraor- 
dinary mastery amidst the failing resources of liis physical 
constitution." 



Header, thus lived and thus passed away from earth a man, 
■who, for all time to come, is to hold his rank, not with those 
of his countrymen with whom he happened to be associated in 
life, but with the most illustrious men that have had an exist- 
ence in the world. Centuries from this day, when not only the 
few that misunderstood but the many who appreciated and 
loved him shall be forgotten, his name is to stand in the list 
where such names as ]\Ioses and Lycurgus, Solon and Cicero, 
Burke and Bacon, Wilbcrforce and Washington, are recorded. 
Ages from this date, when the youth of this republic, if, hap- 
pily, the republic he twice saved shall, find other saviors to 
preserve it, shall read the history of tlie first century of their 
country, next to that of George Washington, no name will be 
so well known, or hold so high a place, as the name of Daniel 
W^ebster. Ages and centuries hence, when future senates, 
again vexed by internal discords, shall seek to know how to 
maintain with national integrity the integi-ity of the nation, they 
will at once recur, as to a store-house of political wisdom, to 
the still surviving works of the first and ablest of this century's 
statesmen ; and, in that far-off period, and through every suc- 
ceeding period of our existence as a country, the students of a 
thousand liberal institutions, devoted to science, the arts, and 
the professions, will be as familiar with his master-pieces as 
the students of this generation are with those of the Greek, Ro- 
man, and British orators. Nay, more, as republics, like other 
governments, have their life and their decay, so when the union 
of these states shall have come to its natural dissolution, when 



REVIEW OF HIS LIFE. 467 

its history shall have receded so far back as to be reckoned 
with the present antiquities of the earth, then the Americans 
who shall stand upon this soil, as the modern Greeks now 
;and upon the soil of their gx'eat ancestors, shall look backward 
upon the few names which history or tradition shall have saved 
from the general wreck ; and then, whatever names shall have 
gone to oblivion, never to be recovered, never to be recalled, 
never to be pronounced again, of whom there will be many 
now known to ferae, among the few that do not die, and as im. 
mortal as any of the number, will the name of Daniel Webster 
stand, still recorded, still read, still revered, becoming more 
memorable and more imperishable with the lapse of time : 
" All of Agricola that gained our love, and raised our admira- 
tion, still subsists, and will ever subsist, preserved in the minda 
of men, the register of ages, and the lists of fame ! " 

Such having been the hfe of Daniel Webster, and such being 
the position he holds and is to hold in coming time, it is not 
expedient to close this record without looking back upon him, 
without casting some reflections on the singular character and 
import of his hfe, and without drawing such instructions from 
it as it is so capable of furnishing, and will not fail to furnish, 
to the more penetrating and thoughtful of mankind. 

In entering upon such a review, it will be at once evident, 
that a single quality of mind, or a single trait of character, if 
developed largely and made very prominent, is generally suf- 
ficient to give to ordinary great men a title to their reputation, 
but that many qualities, and many traits, with every attribute of 
his being, in fact, have to be examined and accounted for, in ma- 
king up the character of such an extraordinary man as Daniel 
Webster. 

It will be remembered that Dr. Franklin, as the representa- 
tive of his class of men, was considered great, and received great 
applause from his cotemporaries, for having the energy and the 
genius to overcome and rise above the obscurity and poverty 
VOL. I. T* 30 



468 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

of his origin. In this respect, Daniel Webster was equally 
great, as is seen by a brief recapitulation of the successive pe- 
riods of his life from youth to manhood. In the year 1782, 
he is born at Salisbury, on the banks of the Merrimac, and on 
the northern frontier of New Hampshire. His father, Ebene- 
zer Webster, is the owner of a farm large enough, it miglit be 
imagined, to have made him and his family independent. But 
a thousand acres of wild, woody, rocky, and nearly barren ter- 
ritory, as is that portion of New Hampshire, is not enough to 
raise them above hard labor, and the want of what are since the 
most ordinary comforts. The household is very lai'ge and ex- 
pensive. The tathei', the mother, and all the childi'en, are work- 
ing people, and toil hard in the heat and in the cold, to procure 
from their sterile acres their daily bread. The country is new, 
tlie repu'^lic is just beghming ; and there are no such chances 
as have smce existed to take advantage of changing circumstan- 
ces and make sudden fortunes. From the day of his birth till 
he leaves his father's residence, the youtliful Webster sees no- 
thhig aroimd Mm, nor before him, but a partially reclaimed wil- 
derness and constant labor. When he arrives at an age that fits 
him to begin to le^rn the rudiments of an education, the sum- 
mer has to be spent in work, and the school is too distant, and 
the snows of winter too deep, to admit of his walking or going 
to it. His mother, a noble woman, is his only teacher. Stand- 
ing by her knee, he acquires those first lessons, that ripen after- 
ward into such various and deep knowledge. When older, and 
large enough to brave the horrors of a northern whiter, a few 
weeks annually, during tliis inhospitable season, are all the time 
allowed him to cultivate his faculties. These are all the advanta- 
ges he has for the acquisition of knowledge till about his four- 
teenth year, Avhen his father, m consideration of the general fee- 
bleness of his son's health, and the promise of his mind, gives 
Mm a larger portion of his time for study. The moment he is 
released from manual labor, it is seen at once what is the spirit 



SUMMARY OF IIIS LIFE. 469 

of the youth, and what he is capable of performing. In a few 
short months fi-om the time of his release, he is prepared for 
college. At the age of fifteen, he enters the Freshman class at 
Dartmouth ; and from that hour till the day of his graduation, 
he is noted as the hardest student of the institution. By adhe- 
ring exclusively to liis books, and by refusuig to spend his time 
in outward displays and public performances, he makes himself 
the deepest, tliough not the most showy, scholar of his class. 
The foundation being thus laid, when he goes out to take his part 
in active life, he is ready for anything that offers, and takes pros- 
perity by the forelock, and success by storm. Beuig considera- 
bly in debt, and not too proud to work, he tramps on foot to the 
state of Mame, takes the academy of Fryeburg for a very small 
salary, but saves the whole of it by writing in the clerk's office 
to pay his board. Ha^^ng thus paid off his debts, he commences 
the study of the law, getting his instruction where he can, some- 
times studying by his father's fireside, sometimes m the office 
of 'Mr. Tliompson, of his native place, and for a short time under 
the oversight of Qiristopher Gore, of IMassachusetts, Soon 
after his admission to the bar, he removes to the city of Ports- 
mouth, then the chief city of his state, and commences practice 
by the side of such men as Jeremiah Mason, whose fame is al- 
most miiversal, but with a resolution to conquer a place and 
master his position, whatever or whoever may surround him. 
The work is soon done. For nine years, which are the years 
of his stay at Portsmouth, though a young man, he stands first 
at the bar of New Hampshire, and commands a willing or an un- 
willing deference from the oldest and ablest lawyers to the extent 
and depth of his legal learning, and to the matchless strength 
and compass of his mind. So entirely does he conquer his po- 
sition, that, at the close of these nine years, when he becomes 
a candidate for a seat in congress, out of a constituency of sev- 
eral thousand, he easily obtains a very clear majority, hi 1816 
he removes to Boston, and, in the following year, makes his 



470 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

celebrated plea on the Dartmouth College case, which is never 
to be forgotten in New England, and which carries him high 
above every other lawyer in that Athens of America, where 
there is to be found some of the best legal abilities in the world. 
In 1820, he is a member of the convention that revises the 
constitution of his adopted state ; and his statesmanship is so 
conspicuous in this assembly, that the leading citizens of Bos- 
ton at once make him their candidate for the senate of the 
United States. Replying that " he has had enough of public 
life," he declines the honor, and makes every exertion to pro- 
cure it for another man. But the admiration and confidence 
of the people will not let him rest. In 1822, without his con- 
sent, and contrary to his wishes, they elect him to the house 
of representatives, where, in 1824, he makes his speech on the 
Greek revolution, which is pronounced in England to be the 
ablest and most eloquent since the days of Pitt. In the suc- 
ceeding autumn, he is again put in nomination, and in a district 
of^ve thousand freemen, he receives /our thousand nine hun- 
dred and ninety votes. Two years afterwards, the compli- 
ment of a renomination is again paid him, which is followed 
by similar results. Forced as he thus sees himself from the 
charms of private life, which no'man ever desired or delighted 
in more than he, he finally yields to what seems to be his des- 
tiny, and gives himself up, on his election to the United States 
senate, in 1827, to the great work which his admiring country- 
men have crowded upon his hands. As a senator, he serves 
his country for twelve consecutive years, leaving the senate- 
chamber at last, in 1840, at the call of President Harrison, 
who is unwilling to undertake the duties of his exalted and dif- 
ficult office, without having the experience, the wisdom, the 
masterly abilities of Webster for his support. In 184.5, he re- 
turns to his seat in the senate, which he holds till 1850, when, 
on the death of General Taylor, he is again summoned by 
President Fillmore to become the head of the cabinet, in which 



THEORY OF GREATNESS. 471 

high position he remains till death. During all these years, 
in every office ^Yhicli he holds, he is always and everywhere 
acknowledged as the first man. As a lawyer in New Hamp- 
shire, he is first ; as a lawyer in Massachusetts, he is first ; as 
a member of the Massachusetts constitutional convention, he is 
first ; as a representative for seven years at Washington, he is 
first ; as a senator, for seventeen years, at home and abroad, 
he is constantly recognized as first ; as secretary of state, at two 
critical periods in the nation's history, he is emphatically first, 
not more than two of his predecessors having brought to the 
post anything like his abilities as a statesman, or as a man of 
mind. For twenty-five years of his public life, his judgment 
deliberately uttered on a point of litigation, or of legislation, is 
almost as good as law. The country more than once waits, 
and waits anxiously, for his opinion ; and a single epistle, which 
falls extemporaneously froni his pen, is known to pacify belli- 
gerent nations, and a speech to elevate in foreign lands the price 
of <iur public stocks. Whether in office, or out of office, he is 
always, during this quarter of a century in particular, the mo- 
mentous, mighty spirit of his country, who, by the motion of 
his single intellect, frequently sways the nation, and always 
commands the notice of the world. If there is any greatness, 
therefore, to be attributed to Franklin, and to men of his class, 
because they have the energy to rise from humble circumstan- 
ces, against many obstacles, to a high point of power and 
honor among their fellow men, then that greatness, whatever 
it is, and all that it is, is to be ascribed to Daniel Webster, 
who began in obscurity, but closed his career as the most power 
ful single individual, as ah individual, of modern times. 

hi the earliest ages, the world resounded with tl;e fame of 
'Pheseus, of Hercules, and of Samson ; and in every period 
since, &s well as in the present period, there has been, as there 
yet is, a sect of thinkers, whose fundamental maxim is, that the 
body is the basis of every style of greatness. They differ, it 



472 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

is true, in the manner of their judgments. Some of them say 
that the power of a man's mind is always commensurate with 
the volume of his brain. Others, in addition to the size of this 
organ, make more or less allowance for the quality of its tex- 
ture. Others, not so exclusive in their attention to the brain, 
attribute a great deal of consequence to the temperaments, to 
the form of the features, and to the general aspect of the per- 
son. With some, the eye is everything. To others, the mouth 
is the chief indicator of intellectual and moral qualities. A 
third class, attributing to the heart and lungs a great influence 
upon the action of the whole system, the nerves and brain in- 
cluded, assert that a capacious head on a narrow trunk is less 
likely to be distinguished by mental greatness, than a smaller 
head on a trunk well developed, and roomy enough to admit 
of the free play of large vital organs. All these, and others 
that might be mentioned, are but variations of the same gene- 
ral theory of man, which sets a very high value, if not the high- 
est value, on the size, powers and possibilities of the body ; and 
it is a pertinent fact, and worthy of record and recollection, that, 
for the last quarter of a century, every division and sub-divis- 
ion of this class of men, whatever have been their contradic- 
tions on other subjects, and whatever changes have taken place in 
their respective standards of judging of human characters, have 
unanimously and invariably settled upon Daniel Webster, as 
their common model. And certainly, whatever may be thought 
of their several theories, in this respect they have not mistaken. 
Seen where he mJght be, whether m the senate, or on the street, 
or in the largest gathering of the people, he was always the 
most magnificent specimen of a man, present. Others might 
be larger, higher, more muscular, but none in every way so 
striking and so perfect. Though not monstrous in size, he was 
of more than medium height, round and full in habit, perfectly 
erect, firm and strong in step, and entirely satisfactory to the 
most fastidious eye for the regularity, proportion and harmony 



PEESONAL APPEARANNCE. 473 

of Ills features. His movement was that of a superior being, 
unconscious, or thoughtless, of his superiority. When sitting 
in the presence of an assembly, where others of notoriety could 
be found disposing of themselves as if thoughtful of their ap- 
pearance, and perhaps a little troubled about the impression 
that that appearance might be makmg for them, he sat with the 
most absolute unconcern, without a motion or a look to invite 
respect, or to draw attention. Well might he sit thus natu- 
rally and easily, for nature had so endowed him, that no effort 
of his own could have added anything to the grandeur of his 
presence, hi such situations, as the people saw him but sel- 
dom, all eyes were always riveted upon Mm, whoever else 
might be present ; and every one made him, as long as the oc- 
casion would admit, a study. All around, in every part of the 
most thronged audiences — and he never was permitted to see 
a small one — half suppressed ejaculations could be heard — 
" what an eye ! " " what a head ! " " v/hat a mouth ! " " what 
a countenance ! " " what a presence ! " " what a man ! " A 
philosopher would have much to study and to mark about him. 
He would see that the great man was most compactly built, as 
if his powerful mind had drawn and knit his frame together for 
the difficult purposes of a mighty life. There was no waste 
distance, by any needless length of person, between his head 
and heart, between his heart and hand, betM'een the source and 
center of his life and the instruments that that life was to in- 
vigorate and employ. His head was not only one of the tliree 
largest, but the most regularly developed head of modern 
times. According to the measurements of Dr. Jeffi-ies, made 
on the plan adopted or proposed by Dr. Morton, the circum- 
ference of the head was twenty-three inches and three-quarters, 
and the distance from the meatus of one ear, over the top of 
the head, to the meatus of the other, was fifteen inches. The 
longitudinal diameter of the head was seven and a half inches ; 
the transverse diameter, five inches and three quarters ; the 



474 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

vertical diameter, five and a half inches, giving to its whole 
capacity, one hundred and twenty-two cubic inches, the average 
capacity of the Teutonic race being, according to Dr. Morton, 
liinety-two cubic inches. His was the largest head, rating by 
the cranial capacity, of which there has been made any record. 
His temperament, a mixture of the nervous and bilious, was 
just the one, which the most strenuous materialist would have 
selected, to give liim the highest activity of his faculties, and the 
greatest power of endurance, to sustain him against the frame- 
shaking enginery and energy of his mind. Added to all his 
other traits, and as a final accomplishment of his person, Mr. 
Webster must be said to have been truly beautiful. It was not 
feminine beauty that every one beheld and noted in him. It 
was a manly beauty, the beauty of his sex. It was the beauty 
of a large, powerful, miglity being, whose proportions were 
magnificent, but still charming and attractive to the eye. It 
was that beauty that lies embodied in sublimity. It was the 
beauty of the ocean, when lying motionless, and clear, and 
deep, beneath the spectator's glance. It was the beauty of the 
overhanging sky, broad and boundless, which, serene and quiet 
as it may be to-day, carries within itself a vastness of power, 
that, to-morrow, may shake heaven and cause the earth to trem- 
ble to its poles. In every way, in every feature, in all his bear- 
mg, Daniel Webster was certainly a pattern, as if nature had 
designedly brought together into one, the perfections of many 
persons, that, after numerous disappointments, the world might 
at last have a model of a man. 

In advancing higher, to take some account of Mr, Webster's 
mind, it is not enough to say, that the mind is the true stand- 
ard of the man, or that liis mind was without a parallel among 
living men. This has been said so often, and so long, that soma 
more definite statement of the universally acluiowledged fact 
is wanted. That he was, intellectually, far above and beyond 
any modern man^ and perhaps equal to any that ever lived on 



INTELLECTUAL GREATNESS. 475 

earth, has been constantly confessed, at home and abroad, for 
thirty years. But intellectual greatness is of several kinds. It 
is now a fit occasion to inquire what kmd was possessed by 
him. 

If, in answering this question, we follow the division of the 
intellect made by Bacon, into memory, imagination and reason, 
we shall be compelled, without doubt, after this protracted in- 
vestigation of Mr. Webster's life and labors, to ascribe to him 
the three orders of greatness founded respectively upon the 
several departments of the understanding. He undoubtedly 
possessed that greatness based on memory, which, though the 
lowest order of intellectual greatness, has been alone sufficient 
to give to many a name a world-wide reputation. Not that he 
had a ]Mezzofantian memory, that devoured everything, good 
and bad, or the memory of the friend of Frederick the Great, 
who, on hearing a long poem read once, could repeat it iiv 
stantly, without the variation of a syllable. Nor had he any 
of the tricks of memory afi;er any system of mnemcHiics, by 
which he could recount a long and disconnected catalogue of 
names, by having it a single time read over to him. No mem- 
ory of that sort had ^Mr. Webster. His memory was natural, 
and sound, and healthy. It was strong, retentive, ready and 
universal. It need not be said, for it would be no eulogy, that 
he remembered everything. What can be said of him is all 
that characterizes a really great memory. He always retained, 
and could use at any moment, and with the most perfect ac- 
curacy, whatever he had intended to lay up at any time of 
reading or of observation. His memory for words, for facts, 
and for ideas, was about equal. Thoughts that he had once had, 
seldom if ever escaped him ; for, in all his speeches, which 
must be counted by the hundred, and which extended through 
a space of over forty years, he was remarkable for recollecting 
and pointing out — even when speaking without previous no-" 
tice — what he had said on the same subject on all former oo 



476 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES, 

casions. Events, whether those of history, or those coming 
within the range of his own experience, were always stated by 
him exactly as they occurred, and generally accompanied by all 
their attending circumstances ; and more than once, when en- 
gaged in debate, and when a variance arose between him and 
his opponent in relation to a fact, his statement of it not 
only carried his hearers with fiim, but convinced his antagonist 
without farther examination or evidence, that his own recollec- 
tion was at fault. It is a singular circumstance in the history of 
Mr, Webster, that an appeal is not known to have ever been 
taken from anything deliberately stated by him as a fact. His 
word, his memory, was always the end of controversy in a mat- 
ter which he professed to know. In regard to language, or 
what is called verbal memory, he was yet more remarkable. 
His citations, as has been before said in the narrative of his life, 
have long been celebrated as being always the best that could 
have been made ; and his quotations from the great masters, 
in the course of an argument, were invariably so fit, so perti- 
nent, that the reader or hearer doubted, whether the passage 
or phrase in question had ever been before, or could ever be 
again, so aptly quoted. There was something so remarkable 
in him, in this respect, that it is diflicult to state it with suffi- 
cient force. In every instance, it seemed as if his passages and 
phrases, ages before he wanted them, had been made to his 
order, and that he had laid them up in his early years, as if pre- 
scient of the precise use he would wish ever afterward to make 
of them. For thirty years, so noted was this trait, the world 
of critics have been watching him to see if they could not find 
him, at some careless moment, tripping. Two or three times, 
jn the course of this long period, they have imagined that they 
had at last found a fault ; but in every case, after mature exam- 
ination, the critics have been forced to acknowledge that he 
was right. Near the close of life, indeed, when some professed 
to discover a decline of his great faculties, an instance of this 



I 



HIS IMAGINATION. 477 

kind occiin-ed. In the course of the brief and unambitious 
speech in Fanucil Hall, before mentioned, made on the 24th 
of May, 1852, he quoted two lines of poetry, which he ascribed 
to Dr. Johnson. Next day, the literary newspaper writers of 
Boston, opposed to him in politics, came out with flaming par- 
agraphs, hei-alded by a sound of trumpets, that the great orator 
had certainly made one blunder ; and, in proof of their asser- 
tion, they published large extracts from one of Dr. Goldsmith's 
pieces, in which the two lines evidently occur. The great cul- 
prit made no correction. Perhaps he did not read the stric- 
tures. In a few^ days, however, some deeper scholar had found 
the feet, which JNIr. Webster had perhaps known from boyhood, 
that though Dr. Goldsmith did write the body of the poem. Dr. 
Johnson wrote the twelve last lines of it, and that it was this addi- 
tion from which the orator had made, extemporaneously, but 
knowingly, his quotation. In literature itself, which had never 
been to him more than a recreation, he proved himself, not 
only once, but often, more accurate than those men, who made 
it their profession. In all matters of memory, indeed, he real- 
ized the strong language of the poet : 

" Ilis words were bonds, his oaths were oracles," 

Of Mr. Webster's imagination, or his power to recall and 
combine past perceptions, and frame them together in new 
ways and according to new relations, nothing less can be said 
than that he had no li\ing superior. Philosophy assures us that 
clearness and vividness of conception is at the same time the 
chief element, both of recollection and of imagination. The 
man who can look upon the past with so steady and bright 
and broad a vision as did Mr. Webster, must see plainly the 
natural and the possible resemblances and contradictit)ns, as 
well as all other intelligible relations between objects. That 
Mr. Webster did see them, and profit by what he saw, every 
thing he ever did bears witness. No man ever beheld the 



478 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

congruities, or the incongruities, of events, facts and ideas more 
accurately, or more happily. It is for this reason that he was 
about equally capable of both grave and ludicrous creations. 
In public, he was noted for his serious pictures, which were al- 
ways the pictures of a master. In private, he is said to have 
indulged in the ludicrous, his wit being ready and exhaustless, 
and his descriptions rich, racy, and dramatic. He was the best 
story-teller of the whole country, and his performances in this 
way have been compared to the dialogues of Shakspeare. 
He could make a story, as well as tell one; and his ideal pic- 
tures of life, and particularly of the future life, were wonder- 
fully striking and original. It was seldom that he publicly 
indulged in pure satire ; but when he did, the man or the idea 
satirized was an object of sport or of contempt ever afterwards. 
When South Carolina, unsupported by a single other state, pro- 
posed to nullify the acts and authority of congress, Daniel 
Webster, in one of his inspired moments, advised her to go on 
and take the contemplated step. He told her, with a wither- 
ing smile, to take from our flag her one star and one stripe, 
and set up a republic and be a country by herself! Tlie step 
was never taken ; for every one saw, from that moment, even 
South Carolina herself, how ridiculously the one star and one 
stripe would look 1 His figures were always thus pertinent 
and sti'ong. They were arguments ; and the arguments were 
conclusive. They were not such as Irving, or Addison, or even 
Shakspeare would have made, simply humorous, laughable and 
capable of a competition by other tongues. They were such as 
no other tongue, no other pen but his, has ever framed, or may 
ever frame again. The man nearest to him, and most like 
him in this respect, was Burke. Had he not been, indeed, so 
many things else, and particularly a statesman of such weighty 
cares, Mr. Webster might have been a poet ; and his poetry 
would have been, not the eloquent volubility of Homer, nor 
the placid stateliness of Virgil, nor the minute philosophism of 



HIS REASONING FACULTY. 479 

Lucretius, nor the refined sentimcntalism of Petrarch, nor the 
cold magniloquence of Corneille, nor the finical polish of Racine, 
nor the careful scholasticism of Goethe, nor the sensuous warmth 
of Schiller, nor the feminine delicacy of Addison, nor the verbal 
opulence of Thomson, nor the shorn and shaven evenness and bal- 
anced accuracy of Pope, but something entirely his own, and still 
a poetry of the first grade. Judging from the imagery of his 
prose writings, and from what are known to have been the leading 
characteristics of his mind, it seems most probable that he would 
have combined the dramalic power of Shakspeare with the 
high sublimity of Dante, or of Milton. To their class, cer- 
tainly, Mr. Webster, as a poet, would have belonged ; and he 
was the only man of this century, or ofthe preceding centuries, 
that could have composed Hamlet, the Liferno, or Paradise 
Lost. He might, it is probable, have written either, had he 
given his days to literature, rather than to the state ; for the 
breadth and power of his imagination, as well as the liveliness 
of his fancy, have been seldom equaled, and perhaps not once 
surpassed. 

Ascending still higher in this investigation, to examine Mr. 
Webster's claims to greatness on the ground of reason, the 
third division of the intellect, according to Lord Bacon, less 
need be said, as all men have given him, in this respect, the 
preeminence above the greatest personages of modern times. 
Here, he stood entirely alone, unapproached and unapproacha- 
ble. Whatever may have been said of him, in relation to 
other qualities, he never had an enemy, or a rival, possessed 
of any character as a critic, that ventured to deny him this su- 
periority over other men. In pure argument, in clear, com- 
pact, solid reasoning, it is undeniable that he never looked upon 
his equal. Such was his penetration, that he saw the bottom 
of everything upon which he turned his eye. No arts could 
mystify, no sophistry could deceive him. A subject of debate 
might be covered up by an age of opposing precedents, or ob- 



480 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

scured by the contrivances of his antagonists, or clouded by its 
own deptli or distance, so that common minds, however honest, 
knew not what to think of it. When he cast his eye upon it, 
these precedents were nothing ; his antagonists were nothing ; 
the depth and distance of the idea were nothing. He brushed 
them all away ; he went directly to the thought, whatever or 
wherever it might be ; and he brought it up, entire and alone, 
exhibiting it clearly to every person's comprehension, exactly 
in its own proportions. Not only was he thus profound and 
strong, but he was broad and comprehensive. He not only 
saw his idea, and that distinctly separated from every other 
idea, similar and dissimilar, but he beheld all its relations to 
other ideas, near and remote, and seemed to realize, while em- 
ploying or presenting it, every possible bearing it might have 
upon every possible idea, or interest, past, present, and future. 
If it may be said deferentially, and only with its own meaning, 
there was a sort of omnipresence in his genius, in his reason- 
ing, of which every reader and every hearer was always 
strangely conscious. He had scarcely taken his seat for the 
first time in congress, before it became evident, that, if any 
one wished to oppose him, it must be by other means than 
argument. With whatever eloquence, either of diction or of 
delivery, he was at any time beset, it was but a playful effort 
for him to take up the speeches, paragraph by paragraph, take 
out of them all their rhetoric, and reduce them to their sim- 
ple essence, and then perhaps annihilate that essence by a sin- 
gle stroke of his powerflil and resistless logic. In the early 
part of his congressional career, a well known senator used to 
try his arts of metaphysical dialectics on him ; but he soon 
found that finely-spun theories and delicately-drawn distinctions 
could not chain a giant. At the same period, another distin 
guished senator would occasionally atternpt to mislead or neu- 
tralize him, by the employment of rich description, captivating 
imagery, a charming voice, and a passionate and very confident 



POWER IN ARGUMENT. 481 

style of oratory; but all these attempts were finally abandoned 
as thrown away upon a man, who, rising with the most perfect 
coolness, could always give the exact weight and worth of 
everything thus beautifully uttered, and then present his own 
views so cogently, and so clearly, as to make them stand out 
like living mathematical demonsti'ations. In all these efforts, 
however, he was always cautious not to do more than the case 
demanded, and never to mflict needless chagrm upon an oppo- 
nent, as a weak man often does, by pressing too far a logical 
advantage. He seemed ever to be conscious, that, in these 
mental battles, he always had the advantage of mankind gen- 
erally, and that deriving it as a gift of heaven, he was bound 
to treat his opponents with mercy. Only twice in his life-time 
did he appear at all to vary from this rule of action ; and in 
both cases, the personal assaults made upon his private char- 
acter, as well as the vital import to the country of a thorough 
victory, havetalways been looked upon as a sound apology. 
These were probably the only instances, also, where his whole 
mmd was roused to do its utmost ; and it is scarcely too much 
to say, tliat the chief existence which the two men have since 
had is the immortality arising to them from the sublime effort 
by which everything but a bare existence was taken from them. 
One of them fell at once into utter oblivion, so far as the na- 
tion is concerned ; and the other, not only a man of talents, but 
supported by a combination of great power, on being plainly 
told, by one of his friends, that he and his party had been ut- 
terly annihilated by the great New-Englander, thought it a 
sufficient glory, as he said, that no living man could have dealt 
anniliilation to him but Daniel Webster. Daniel Webster, 
however, could deal defeat to any opponent, in a conflict of pure 
argument, whom he was ever called to meet in public or in 
private life. His reasoning power, indeed, was almost as sub- 
tle as Aristotle's, quite as brilliant as Plato's, and as practical 



482 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

as Lord Bacon's ; and he might have been, perhaps, either one 
of those philosophers had he not been Daniel Webster. 

Such, without doubt, is the universal opinion entertained of 
the mental capacities of the immortal statesman ; but there is a 
higher order of greatness, which has been seldom mentioned, 
but which should be equally ascribed to him. It is that order 
of greatness founded upon the sensibilities. Mr. Webster was 
not simply a person of great physical perfection endowed with 
a powerful intellect. He was a man of feeling. His emotions 
alone, had they been alone, would have distinguished him as 
much as his memory, his imagination, or his reason. He was 
a man of keen, delicate, and lively sentiment. Like the pillars 
about a temple, his mind was a combination of strength with 
beauty. He was passionately fond of nature. He fixed his 
residence in a rural spot, surrounded by fields and forests, rocks 
and runnuig water. His flivorite room, which he used as a 
library and study, looked out upon the ocean, which he is said 
to have been accustomed to gaze upon by the hour together. He 
delighted in the successive changes of the seasons. The storms 
of winter and the flowers of spring gave him equal pleasure. 
In the heat of summer, as has been seen, he was wont to go out 
and sit ui^on the streamlet banks, or ramble through the shady 
woods, or wander upon the ocean beach, sometimes with his 
gun, but more geiierally with his fishing rod, all the time 
deeply musing, as if it were his only business m life to visit and 
enjoy the works of liis Creator. He enjoyed himself much with 
children, and allowed them to take liberties with him, as a lion 
might enter into the sports of lambkins. He has been heard 
to say that a little child asleep was to him the most touching 
of all earthly objects. He loved beauty, serenity, and inno- 
cence; and he has been frequently observed returning to his man- 
sion, after a morning's ramble, Math his hands filled with flow- 
ers. One of the most beautiful of his compositions is a letter 
he wrote to a friend, in praise of the quiet and freshness of the 



DEPTH OF HIS SENSIBILITIES. 483 

morning ; and his Franldin letter, written while looking out of 
a window of the old Salisbuiy homestead upon the graves of 
his buried kindred, is as affecting as anything in the English lan- 
guage. His domestic affections were wonderfully strong. Nor 
is it to be forgotten, that always, in all his writings, wherever 
his father's name is mentioned, it is followed by a point of ad- 
miration ; and he could never speak of his eldest brother, who 
died so suddenly, without being moA-ed to tears. When he 
lost his children, his grief, thougli submissive, was sublime. It 
was like that of David. His neighbors, and his neighborhood, 
lived in his aff*ections ; and liis love for New England, second 
only to his love for the whole country, has long been a passion. 
His love of his native land was always stronger in him than the 
love of life ; and yet, such was the breadth of his feelings, as 
well as his breadth of view, that he was ever able to make the 
most ardent patriotism a part of that general benevolence which 
embraced the whole human family, A memorable instance of 
his kindness of heart was mentioned after his death, by Mr. 
Everett. Tbat gentleman, when about to prepare the last edi- 
tion of Mr. Webster's works, was permitted to follow his own 
taste without much restraint. Only one injunction was laid 
upon him. " ]\fy friend," said Mr. Webster, " I wish to per- 
petuate no feuds. I have lived a life of strenuous political war- 
fare. I have sometimes, though rarely, and that in self-defense, 
been led to speak of others with severity. I beg you, where 
you can do it without wholly clianging the character of the 
speech, and thus doing essential injustice to me, to obliterate 
every trace of personality of this kind. I should prefer not to 
leave a word that would give unnecessary pain to any honest 
man, however opposed to me." It was for this reason that his 
political enemies generally esteemed him. It was for this reason, 
so clearly seen in all his speeches and in all his acts, that he was 
our most successful diplomatist, because, while maintaining his 
regard for his own government, he had made himself the idol 
VOL. I. U 31 



484 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

of other nations. All men have celebrated Mr. "Webster's 
intellectual greatness ; but the world has yet to learn, what 
it will leani, when his whole character shall have been re- 
vealed, that his heart was even greater than his head. When 
we look upon his calling, upon the nature of his employ- 
ments, upon the places he occupied, and upon the general be- 
havior of our public characters, it must be acknowledged that 
that heart of his, always young, sensitive, tender, and full of be- 
nevolence to all the world, made him emphatically our most 
glorious man ! 

But there is still another order of greatness, which is to be 
ranked higher than all others, because it is that which gives life 
and character to them all. It is that order of greatness 
founded upon a powerful will. The will is the internal force 
that moves and controls the man. It is the man himself It 
is that interior essence that calls everything else its own. A 
weak, hesitating, unresolving will, always leaves a man weak, 
hesitating, and unresolved. A strong will makes a man strong. 
It was his will that made Alexander the conqueror of the world. 
It was his will that made Hannibal great, both in victory and 
defeat. It was his will that gave to Csesar, in spite of ten thou- 
sand discouragements, the command of his enemies and the em- 
pire of Rome. It was his will, his imperial will, that made Na- 
poleon what he was. It was his will that put England into the 
power of Ci'omwell, when nothing but a strong will could stand. 
The laborer of Marseilles told Kossuth, that everything is pos- 
sible to him that wills ; but the loss of Hungary is to be attrib- 
uted to the very fact, that the lesson had not been learned be- 
fore. Had the great Magyar, the moment he had seen the 
first symptoms of treachery in Gorgey, hurled him from his 
path, and rushed to the last conflict with the spirit of an un- 
conquered and unconquerable man, the land he has so honored 
and so loved might now be free; but in this one. point, with 
all the nobleness and grandeur of his soul, he failed. This is 



POWER OF HIS WILL. 485 

not the first time, perhaps, that the imagination has been in- 
dulged, ha supposing how Webster would have acted, in such 
a crisis, with such a traitor at his back. It will take no time 
to tell. He would have raised himself up to the highest and 
dreadest demand of the moment. An army of Gorgeys would 
have been but a feather in his way. The first word of treason to 
his country would have been the death-warrant to any and every 
man. Storms might have arisen, but Webster, fully roused, 
would have beaten them back, or grasped them and held them 
motionless in his fist. Such has ever been his character. His 
will never saw a crisis greater than itself AVhen resolved, no- 
thing on earth could ever move him, or shake him fi-om his 
course. Acting, as it is believed he always did, fi'om a sense 
of right and duty, after the most careful examination of a ques- 
tion, neither enemies nor friends could swerve him from his 
purpose. The west might threaten him and the east give signs 
of the withdrawal of its confidence and esteem ; but he always 
went directly forward, turning neither to the right nor left. 
The south might burn against him, and the north might gather 
on him a coldness greater than its owa ; but, nothing daunted, he 
slackened not in the execution of his resolves. When the pro- 
slavery feeling of the southern states concentrates to nullify the 
authority of congress, and overthrow the federal government, 
he rises up in the majesty of his soul, stakes his reputation and 
his political fortunes on a single act, routs the enemies of his 
country forever from the field, and gives to us all a country, a 
government, at a cost which the services of a long life have not 
been able, as he knew they would not be able, to make good. 
When the anti-slavery spirit of the northern states, just m itself, 
but overlooking the authority of the constitution, assumes a 
hostile character, he rises again, turning his face against his own 
New England, against the dearest friends he ever had on eai'th, 
against what falsely and yet plausibly seems to have been the 
tenor of his whole life, and proves himself once more above all 



480 WEBSTEE AND MIS MASTER-PIECES. 

flatteiy, above all threats, resolved to do his own duty, as he 
himself sees it, and to be supported only by the approval of 
his own conscience and the invincible might of his own great 
will. This, beyond all contradiction, after all that has been 
said of Webster, was his master trait ; and, in this respect, 
the world has never seen a truer, a stronger, or a sublimer 
man. 

These, according to the facts previously narrated, were 
the leading characteristics of the late and illustrious Dan- 
iel Webster ; and it cannot be supposed that such a man, liv- 
ing in such an age as this, could have passed so long a life with- 
out doing something remarkable for his country. Without at- 
tempting to give a detailed account of his great services, not 
only to his native land, but to other lands, and to man in gen- 
eral, there are three important lessons, contained in his ex- 
ample, which caimot be omitted without doing his memory- 
injustice. 

In the first place, Webster has given us and given the world 
a great and useful lesson in the art of public speaking. He 
was our first orator. He was a genuine orator. He was the 
first American to discover, and to prove in his own person, that 
true oratory needs no tricks of rhetoric, no arts of declamation, 
no extravagance of voice and gesture, no rant, no bombast. He 
said what he felt, in simple, honest language, every word of 
which had its meaning ; and this he demonstrated to be true 
eloquence. It was with this plain, straight-forward eloquence, 
that he swayed at his pleasure the masses of the people, when- 
ever and w^herever they went out to hear him. It was with this 
that he stood up before the most learned and fastidious audi- 
ences, teaching them that simplicity is the great element of 
power, even in literary discourses. It was with this that he 
appeared before the assembled talent of the nation, where every 
individual was an interested critic, and made an envious senate 
listen to him with admiration ; and, in the course of his public 



OUR FIRST ORATOR. 487 

life, he made an impression on the senate, as an orator, as a 
teacher of true oratory, such as no other man ever made. 
Randolph might be more humorous, Preston more particular 
in gesture, Clay more flowery and passionate, and other sena- 
tors more captivating to a superficial populace; but, while 
these orators seemed to be regarded as paragons by the people, 
they themselves looked upon Webster as their own model. 
Everything about his oratory was so easy, so natural, so sim- 
ple, so direct, and yet so beautiful and powerful, that he may 
well be acknowledged as the orator of his country. The 
crowning excellence of his oratory was, that he always met the 
occasion that called him out — met it exactly, perfectly — but 
never tried to go beyond it. Truly beautiful and majestic in 
his person, his attitude was always dignified ; his changes of 
position natural and easy ; his gesticulation simple but ex- 
tremely happy; his intonations clear, distinct, forcible, and 
sometimes remarkably deep and weighty, but never boister- 
ous ; his eye steady, piercing, and occasionally burning and 
flashing ; his fece varying in expression with every variation 
of thought and feeling, sometimes frowning as no other man 
could frown, then beaming with a smile that seemed like a 
gentle flash of lightning playing harmlessly over the uneven 
surface of a cloud, or like what the sacred writer describes as 
" the opening-up of the eye-lids of morning ; " and, with all liis 
dignity of manner, his muid was constantly pouring out a cur- 
rent of pure thought — thought now and then set on fire by genu- 
ine feeling: — that went straight-forward to his great purpose, and 
as directly to the intelligence and heart of his rapt and admi- 
ring auditors. Such was his oratory ; and the lesson he has 
taught us will hereafter be the species of eloquence sought 
after by our best public speakers, on every occasion, and 
handed down to future generations as that style which they 
will be proud to call American. 



188 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

In the next place, Mr. Webster has given us a gi'eat lesson 
as a writer, furnishing us with a specimen of the best style of 
English composition. He was the ablest living writer in the 
language. He was as able, perhaps, as any man that ever 
wrote it. His writings will ever remain, not only as ti'eas- 
ures of political wisdom, but as the highest standard of style 
on either side of the Atlantic. Addison, it is true, wrote more 
elaborately, and with a finer polish, but not so strongly, clearly, 
and effectively. Johnson attained a better flow of sentences, 
and a more perfect rising and tailing of his periods ; but his 
style is verbose and affected when compared with that of Web- 
ster. Robert Hall moved with a more steady impulse, and 
rolled more evenly along in the sustained grandeur of his com- 
position ; but he never went home to the ordinary apprehen- 
sions of his readers, nor bound them as firmly to his thought, 
as did Daniel Webster. On this side of the ocean, Irving 
writes as correctly and as beautifully, but not so powerfully ; 
Prescott writes more picturesquely, but not so purely. Chan- 
ning was equally pure, equally picturesque, equally dignified 
and simple, but not so thoi'ough a master of the language. In 
most other American prose writers, whose reputations have be- 
come historical, with all their varied excellencies, are to be found, 
more or less fi-equently, positive blemishes of style. There 
were no bleixiishes of style in the elaborated and finished pro- 
ductions of Daniel Webster. The most subtle and determined 
critic might be safely challenged to point out a decided error 
of composition in all his published writings. His excellencies 
are such, on the contrary, as constitute the best style, for his 
class of subjects, of which the language is susceptible. Like his 
oratory, his composition is plain, natural, easy, straight-forward, 
strong, dignified, and sometimes very lofty. His diction is en 
tirely English, He tricks out his sentences with no French 
flippancies, no borrowed phrases, no high-sounding epithets. As 
the classic Gx'eeks would never write or know any other Ian- 



AN AMERICAN STATESMAN. 489 

guage than the Greek, so he would write only English. His 
words are the commonest in the language. They are those that 
men use at home by their own firesides, when conversing with 
their children, and with their uneducated friends and neighbors. 
Shakspeare was the first of our bards to prove that the words 
of the household are the best words, when properly employed, 
for the highest styles of poetry. Mr. Webster has taught us 
the same truth in relation to prose composition. He uses but 
little ornament ; but when he does draw a picture, it is one that, 
put on canvas, would do honor to a Raphael, or an Angelo. 
Everything about his composition is plain, strong, massive, and 
yet beautiful. Some of our other writers are more nice, more 
refined, more showy. He is simply correct, gi-and, powerful, 
ornamenting only when he cannot help it. They are like beau- 
tiful cottages, or villas, in a beautiful situation, where flowers 
and embellishments are among the most conspicuous objects. 
He, on the other hand, is a solitary temple, built up entirely 
of granite, according to the sti'ictest laws of the simplest ar- 
chitectural order, so vast, so well proportioned, so perfect, that 
the eye never seeks for inferior decorations, but loses itself 
among those higher wonders, which satisfy all eyes, and which 
the mind sees are to be eternal 

The highest lesson, however, which Mr. Webster has given 
to his countiy, is tliat given in his capacity as a statesmaa, 
Mr. Webster was a statesman, and not a politician. This should 
ever be remembered. It was often said, dm-ing his life-time, 
that he was not so good a leader of a party as many others 
of inferior talent. He had too much talent, he was too broad 
a man, to be a party leader. He was conscious of his abilities, 
and of the demands which the whole country, instead of any 
party, had upon him. In every one of his measures, in every 
one of his votes, he acted for the country, not for any section 
of it, or for any one class of its citizens, and much less for any 
political organization. It is true, he always nominally belonged 



490 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

to a certain party, but he was never governed by it, and he 
never tried to govern it. More than once, as has been seen, 
he has gone directly in opposition to his party, and it was 
"well-known that he was always liable to do so, and would do 
so, if the party were not with him in its measures. As a party 
man, therefore, he was never entirely popular, while he was 
almost universally looked upon as our deepest, soundest, truest 
statesman. He was an American statesman. Tliis also should 
be remembered. He has told us, and he often told the coun- 
try, that, as a servant of the republic, he knew no east, no west^ 
no north, no south, but was seeking the common good of a com- 
mon people. He originated no new measures, or but very few, 
and was consequently regarded, by superficial men, as defi- 
cient in political abilities. He was not, in this sense, original, 
because he was origmal and alone in a much deeper and more 
important sense, hi what sense, can be very briefly stated. 
Having settled it as a conviction, or a series of convictions, that 
the union of the states had been our sole reliance against Eu- 
ropean aggression and domination; that it was to be our 
sole reliance for the preservation of our liberties ; that that 
union had been possible, and would be possible, only on 
the basis of our present constitution ; that that constitution 
is a fortunate compromise of numerous contending inter- 
ests, and of various sections, by which separate and en- 
tirely independent states were harmonized, and are held to- 
gether for national purposes ; that a breach of this federal con- 
tract, of this constitutional compromise, by the enactments of 
congress, or by the laws of the several states, or by failing to 
carry out, in good faith, its plain and positive provisions, would 
be the destruction of the contract, and a dissolution of that union, 
in which are embodied our harmony, our strength, and our 
very existence as a nation ; having settled all these propositions, 
he could not do otherwise, as a good patriot, or as a wise 
statesman, than uphold and defend the constitution as he found 



KEY TO HIS POLITICAL CAREER. 491 

it. To do this, in the beginning of his career, he took upon 
himself as his peculiar mission. This is the key of all his 
measures, of all his votes, of all his speeches. This was his 
originality. He resolved to keep, and to carry out, the con- 
stitution. He asked not -what party or what section of the 
country it was, that rose up against it. In any event, and in 
every case, he was its defender ; and he was several times, in 
this capacity, its preserver. Li looking on it as a whole, he 
knew it only as a social contract, made by competent parties, 
by the people of the whole country, never to be broken. In 
regarding it more minutely, and as a citizen of a particular part 
of the country, he saw as clearly as any other man ever did, 
that one section might complain, and with some plausibility, 
that another section had gained more by the partnership than 
it had ; for this is the almost universal experience and habit 
of partners to an important and complicated connection ; but 
all these complaints were nothing to Mr. Webster. He used 
to say, and say most truly, that no man, nor set of men, nor 
any party to a fair agreement, has the right to repudiate, or 
nullify, or disregard such agreement, merely because his neigh- 
bor, or neighbors, or the other parties, had made, as might af- 
terwards be supposed, the better bargain. When a bargain is 
once made, he maiutamed, all that any party has to do, is to 
keep it ; and this he supposed to be the duty of every state 
in the Union, and of every citizen of every state. This, at all 
hazards, he fixed upon as his own duty ; and in the perform- 
ance of it, he often risked all he had, and all he was, and all 
he may have ever hoped to be. 

He saw, and saw clearly, that, if the constitution were not 
kept ^gqually by all parties, a revolution would be the conse- 
quence, the states would be dissevered, and the flag of a once 
glorious Union would be torn to tatters. As a statesman, 
h» was our flag-holder, and our flag-defender. Through his 
whole life, lately as well as formerly, whoever or whatever 

VOL. I. U* 



492 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

opposed, or seemed to endanger, he held firmly to it with a 
giant's grasp ; and, with a giant's hand, he smote down every 
man, and all men, friends or enemies, who rose up against it. 
In the darkest hours of our history, sometimes as unhurt as a 
granite pillar, at other times bleeding from the wounds given 
him by those for whom he had ventured everything, he stood 
firmly to it. That we have a flag to-day, a national flag, an 
American flag, furled as it was the day he died, or floating in 
peace and safety over a united and happy land, we owe, more 
dian to any man since Washington, to Daniel Webster. 

In the midst of the almost unbroken eulogy, however, which 
was poured upon him while living, there were always some, it 
cannot be denied, who, incapable of setting the true value upon 
such a man, were continually seeking out his faults, rather than 
profiting by his virtues, Mr. Webster had his faults. Would 
It be history, or eulogy, or flattery, to say of any mortal, that 
he had no faults 1 It has been said that Mr. Webster was am- 
bitious. " He aspired to place and preferment," says Mr. 
Seward, " but not for the nuere exercise of political power, and 
still less for pleasurable indulgences, and only for occasions to 
tiave and serve his country, and for the fame which such noble 
actions might bring." No generous man will censure such am- 
bition. 

It has been said that Mr. Webster was cold and arrogant. 
He was so only to his enemies. To his friends, he was as open 
and as bland as summer. To these, he was ever frank, cor- 
dial, and communicative. In liis mom.euts of relaxation, he 
was cheerfiil, aad even joyous ; and at the festive board, when 
suiTounded by those he trusted and loved, he was fi'equently 
talkative and sometimes merry. It was on these festive occa- 
sions, indeed, and on these alone, that Mr, AVebster sometimes, 
tlirough carelessness, without doubt, transgressed the limits of 
moderation by which he governed, and intended at ail times 
to govern, his dignified and generally well-ordei'ed and noble 



FAULTS AND ACCUSATIONS. 493 

life. Born and bred at a period when the use of alcohol, in 
its various forms, was as common and as allowable as that of 
water, and possessed of a certain respect for the customs of his 
ancestors, and of the early days of the republic, he never laid 
aside the using of it ; but that he was habitually, in ordi- 
nary life, accustomed so to use it as to disturb his faculties, or 
to have it manifest itself in his deportment, is a partisan, news- 
paper, shallow slander, which the American public, in justice to 
their greatest and best statesman, ought never to listen to with- 
out expressions of rebuke. History has nothing better for it 
than contempt. 

If Mr. Webster had any graver feults, no proof of them has 
yet transpired, other than the mercenary reproaches of politi- 
cal partisans, or the irresponsible slanders of persons too low 
for punishment, or for notice, while he lived. That he was a 
good neighbor, a kind father, and a faithful husband, there is 
not the shadow of a doubt. A hireling press could accuse him 
of habits of very great immorality. So it might have ac- 
cused him of theft, of burglary, of highway robbery, as well. 
It was forgotten by those superficial writers, that a life such as 
they pretend requires a great expenditure of time ; and no sa- 
gacious man needs any better evidence of the utter recklessness 
and wickedness of such suppositions, than the monuments of 
his labor which Mr. Webster has left behind him. He had no 
time for anything but his work. Let any one consider that 
either his literary performances, his legal arguments, his con- 
gressional speeches, or his popular addresses, would have, sep 
arately, required as great an amount of mental toil, as any or 
dinary man, in a whole life-time, can do ; but, when all these to- 
gether, compared with his studies, and with the public business 
transacted by him, in the midst of private business that inclu- 
ded the management of two large estates, are seen to be only 
a portion of that incessant, life-long, and laborious occupation 
of his miiid, it is plam enough that he had time only to be, as ho 



494 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

most truly was, a good, a correct, a straight-forward and virtu, 
ous man. 

There is another great fact, equally certain, and equally de- 
cisive, in the final summing up of Mr. Webster's life and char- 
acter. Whatever opinions may have obtained of him in other 
countries, or in distant parts of his own country, his reputa- 
tion stood higher as one approached his home, and fairest among 
his neighbors, who saw him the most frequently and knew him 
best. The parish minister of MaKhfield, who had known him 
well, spoke of him, on the day of his burial, in the warmest 
terms of eulogy, not only as a moral, but even as a religious 
man. Religion is a thing, however, that pertains not to a man's 
outward or public life, but to the inward and unobserved expe- 
rience of the soul. While a man's faults are open, his virtues, 
his faith, his religious life, are that part of him which are entirely 
unseen. A man's transgressions, or omissions, may be, and gen- 
erally are, noted and remembered ; the worst portion of him 
is thus put on record ; but that interior existence, which con- 
sists of regi'ets, of repentance, of struggles against ill mfluen- 
ces, of noble efforts after duty, of high and holy aspirations 
toward a spotless purity of life, is a reality which cannot be 
set up for exhibition, nor obtruded on the attention of the 
world. It was this better part, this interior life of Mr. Web- 
ster, that was comparatively concealed till it found a revelation 
over his last remains. Then it came to light. Then a wid- 
owed and heart-stricken wife could utter it; the family connec- 
tions could speak it ; the neighbors and friends and associates 
could declare it ; then the pulpit and the press could unite to 
give it voice.. 

It now seems, indeed, when party and personal prejudices 
have generally been abandoned, except by those who would 
have joined with the Jews in pronouncing John a madman, and 
Jesus a wine-bibber and a glutton, that Webster had many of 
the traits of a cliristiaa character j that he was an ardent ad- 



HIS CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 495 

mirer of the bible ; that he read it regularly every day ; that he 
maintained devotional exercises in his family ; that he himself, 
on such occasions, read the scriptures and led in prayer ; that 
his doctrinal views, though broad and liberal, were accordmg 
to the best standards of religious faith ; that his views of the 
Almighty, and of his own relations to him, were exceeduigly 
elevated and consistent ; that, for some time before his death, 
he had been meditating and preparing for a work on the in- 
ternal evidences of religion ; that he had made all his plans to 
close up wdth the termination of the existing administration, 
his political career, and spend the remainder of his days at 
Marshfield, in the quiet of his home, in religious meditations 
and literary studies ; that, on the bed of death, when the applause 
of the world had become nothing to him, and he saw himself in 
the very presence of his Judge, he could say, and did say, that 
in all his life, he had generally endeavored to do his Maker's 
will ; that, in a word, in religious opinion and character, he was 
what was to have been expected of a mind so sound, so deep, 
so clear, so comprehensive, so sublimely great, and yet, so oc- 
cupied with the welfare of a nation, which he had always made 
the first and the last great burden of his heart. Tlie only re- 
gret is, that a man so full of light did not let it sliine in every- 
place and in every thing he did ; and yet, this regret must be 
tempered by the grateful acknowledgement that, in all his life, 
Mr. Webster showed himself to be a friend to Christianity, his 
speeches being characterized by an unvarymg respect for the 
christian faith. Not once was he known to utter a word dis- 
respectful to practical religion ; and more than once he haa 
stood up in its defense, before the country, and before a gain- 
saying world, which, however it might mock inferior advocates, 
dared not to sneer at him. In these ways, through a long and 
glorious career, though simply a statesman, his light did shine ; 
and some of his defenses of Christianity will be read and ad- 



496 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

mired and quoted, in the pulpits of all Christendom, as long as 
Christianity itself has an admirer, or a friend. 

But it is customary, even among christian people, to with- 
hold final judgment of a man's christian character, till it is seen 
how he maizes his death. The manner of a man's death often 
works a change, sometimes a revolution, in public opinion, re- 
spectmg the nature of his life ; and, judging Mr. Webster ac- 
cording to this standard, it must be confessed that the majesty 
of his departure disappointed all but his nearest and most fli- 
miliar friends. The way in which he died was morally sub- 
lime. The death-scene, surpassing in moral grandeur all the 
scenes in his great and eventful history, and corroborating all 
the encomiums upon his private character, excites our wonder, 
as if it were the close of a divine's, a martyr's, rather than a 
statesman's life. He died as if it had been his chief occupa- 
tion to prepare for death. He receives the announcement of 
his near decease without a regret, without a change of counte- 
nance. He calls his family about him, and gives to each such 
words as dying christians give to the dear ones they leave be- 
hind them. He calls his friends, talks with them better than 
the dying Socrates talked with his, speaking of his death with 
the utmost tranquillity. He calls his particular friend, and 
shows, in such language as will be immortal, that his great heart 
was still rich in friendly feeling, as it had ever been full of every 
noble sentiment. Having thus finished his earthly business, he 
turns his thoughts to higher and holier things. He devotes his 
last hours to prayer ; and when those hours are over, he closes 
his eyes to take that sleep, which, as might justly be supposed 
by the sorrowful spectators, is to be unbroken till the morning 
of the resurrection ! 

But he is not dead ! Opening his eye-lids once more, and 
recovering his' consciousness again, he utters those last and most 
memorable words, which, it would seem, are given him to utter, 
as if God, not willing that he should depart without a eulogy. 



PLACE OF BURIAl. 497 

and knowing but one man able to pronounce a fitting one, has 
called that one man back, after he has reached the borders of 
the etenial world, to return and pronounce it upon himself. 
His great spirit, obedient to the summons, and turning to the 
scenes of time once more, exclaims, " / still live ! " and then 
takes its final departure to a higher and a better sphere. This 
is Webster's eulogy ; and it shall be his epitaph. It shall be 
cut into the granite rock that is to stand' up, at the bidding of 
his country, to perpetuate his memory ; and it shall be as true 
of him after the lapse of ages, when the rock itself shall have 
disintegrated and gone no ashes, as it is to-day. 

That noble form, that glorious man, whose presence in the 
world had come to be almost a part of it, has gone forever from 
us, as if we had flillcn upon a night from which the most bril- 
liant constellation of the heavens had forever withdrawn its 
beams. He has gone ; he is dead ; he who was the foremost 
man among us, the first American of his generation, whose 
mind has so long been the guide and guardian of a great coun- 
try, now sleeps beneath the sod. While living, but thoughtftil 
of his latter end, he selected and prepared his own resting-place ; 
and his friends and weeping neighbors have laid hinain it. How 
fitting is that place ! Great in life, great in death, he is greatly 
fortunate in having found a spot so entirely in harmony with 
his greatness. On his native soil, in his own New England, 
which his lips had immortalized, near the home and the scenes 
he loved so well, and not far froni the shore of the ever-re- 
sounding sea, they have laid him down to rest, where his coun- 
trymen can visit him amid the scenes where he used to dwell. 
Nowhere else in the wide world could he have found a more 
suitable place of burial. Buried within the limits of a city, 
the city might have crumbled away, as all cities must, and 
lefi; him lost amidst the heaps of deserted rubbish. Buried 
near the capitol, where his greatness had been most conspicu- 
ous, in the revolving fortunes of such a country as this the cap- 



498 WEBSTER AND HIS MASTER-PIECES. 

itol itself might be taken down and removed, -leaving his glori- 
ous dust in neglect and solitude. Laid upon the bank of his 
native river, where his forefathers sleep — rivers themselves, 
in the progress of civilization, have changed their courses, or 
have been dried up within their rocky bed. Nowhere, no- 
where could the great man have been laid to rest in a place so 
consonant to his character. There, within sight of his cher- 
ished home, and on the ocean shore, he lies. That home will 
guard him well ; and that ocean, the best earthly emblem of 
his greatness, and image of the eternity of his fame, wUl roll 
along his reqviiem, when many a river shall have ceased to 
flow, and when cities and capitols shall have mingled their ashes 
with tlie dust of earth ! ' 



END OF VOL. I. 



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